


The Lightning Strike

by outindaylight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alcohol, Bisexual Loki (Marvel), Bisexual Male Character, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love, Memory Alteration, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, Pre-Thor (2011), Suggestive Themes, Unhealthy Relationships, it is and then it isn't, lots of fluff and smut chapters at first, then the plot starts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10049297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outindaylight/pseuds/outindaylight
Summary: Despite having no particular love for the realm or its inhabitants, Loki was a frequent visitor to Midgard. He usually did not linger long. He would be missed if his wanderings took him from court for too long. If only for the fact they would become suspicious of his absence and end his fun. So why was he still there?He could only chalk it up to simple curiosity.





	1. Paralyzer

**Author's Note:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Paralyzer by Finger Eleven  
> 2\. Technicolor Beat by Oh Wonder  
> 3\. I Put a Spell on You by Matt Terry  
> 4\. Trndsttr (Lucian Remix) [feat. M. Maggie] by Black Coast  
> 5\. Revolution (feat. Faustix & Imanos and Kai) by Diplo

Sweat.

Sweat and the too-sweet smell of alcohol.

That was all you could smell as you rocked your body to the pounding rhythm that shook the dance floor and all of the people around you. Your friend was right behind you, her body pressed into yours as she danced with you. You both could care less about any of the guys prowling the bar because you two had long mastered the technique of dancing without them. Too many of the guys there were looking for a quick hump and dump, which neither of you were into. So, a little friendly grinding never hurt the two of you.

Her boyfriend was waiting at home.

Your job was waiting for you.

So why not have a little fun while you can?

“I’m going to go get something to drink. Coming?” she said into your ear as the song switched to a slower beat and she sounded breathless, her words feeling hot against your skin.

“No, you go. I like this song.”

“Okay. Be right back!”

You didn’t even look back at her.

You just kept moving, swaying gently with closed eyes and lost yourself for a moment.

This was a little celebration for the promotion and very decent raise you had just received earlier in the day. It was all very confidential, so the details of exactly what you would be doing were a little unclear, but you knew it was something you wanted the moment it was offered to you. The next few months would be full of training, briefings, and who knows what else, so you were going to enjoy your last real night of freedom and planned on rolling into S.H.I.E.L.D. on Monday with a massive ass hangover.

It was then that you felt the hand slip around your waist. You pushed back into the body and threw your head back slightly to laugh, eyes still closed to enjoy the moment.

“That was fast!”

“Oh, I was unaware that I was expected,” a deep, clearly male voice practically purred in your ear.

You gasped, whipping around to see the tall, thin figure you had just been canoodling with. You were instantly captivated by his intense gaze, eyes narrowed as if he was assessing you, and a wicked smirk that transformed his angular face into an expression of pure mischief. He was handsome, with fine features, high cheekbones, and hair, black as ink, that was tied into a short ponytail at his nape. You barely had time to note the very crisp, black jacket and slacks he wore; much too stuffy for this club.

Your instincts were shattered, splintering into two very different directions.

One part of you, the intelligent and military trained side of you, was screeching: _Run! This man isn’t here to dance!_

The other, more primal side of you, was moaning in delight at his obviously very firm, fit body that was pressed snugly against you as his arms locked around your waist to keep you close. It was an overly familiar hold. He acted as if he knew you, but you were sure you’d never met him before and you didn't think you should try to change that.

“I thought you were my friend,” you quickly blurted out, starting to step back out of his grasp despite your libido groaning in disappointment. “She’ll be back any second.”

He tugged you right back into his grasp.

“So very sorry to disappoint,” he said, not sounding apologetic in the least bit. “We’re not friends yet, but we could be.”

_Danger_. This man was sending up every red flag. You tensed your body, ready to tap into your training and quickly separate yourself from him. You had done it a thousand times before, so it should have been no issue to break away, but he easily caught your wrist in mid swing and chuckled like you had told him a really funny joke instead.

Then he removed his other hand from your side and snapped his fingers.

It all happened so fast. There was a flash of light. With it, a tingling sensation crashed over you, like a warm blanket, and your limbs suddenly seemed to be made of lead, the fight bleeding right out of you. All around you, the entire club seemed to slow down as the effect spread.

In fact...

Everyone in the club had stopped.

Every single body in the club had frozen completely still. It was almost comical, the bodies paralyzed in the unnatural positions of dance. Your friend was also affected, stuck in the middle of dropping her drink all over a man that was beside her at the counter.

“Am I hallucinating right now?” you whispered, your throat constricting tightly as you tried to swallow. “Because let me tell you that not only am I strictly anti-drug, but my job regularly does tests and I will be pissed if I get fired.”

He could see the internal struggle to stay calm in your eyes and he laughed.

“You are positively adorable.”

Using the hand he had blocked you with, he spun you in a slow circle, there was just enough room in between the stock-still dancers for you to move. You did not have much of a choice but to follow his lead. Your body moved on its own like you were nothing more than a puppet and he had all of your strings wrapped around his fingers.

“No, love, I did not slip something into your drink. This is very much real.”

A shiver ran down your spine and directly to your groin, tightening your body there.

_Love._

Why did it sound so carnal when he said that one word?

You were nearly breathless as he pulled you against him once more and continued to dance in lazy, half-hearted circles with you. Like you were long-time lovers that did this all the time. Not total strangers in a room where every other person there was prey to the heavy magic buzzing in the air.

“So what are you?” you were scrambling for answers, trying to quickly reboot your brain.

_Keep him talking_ , some coherent part of you ordered. Get some information. Find out what he wants. You’ve been trained for precisely this kind of thing.

You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. This actually wasn’t the most unusual day you’ve ever had, though maybe the most personal.

“Never you mind that,” he brought his face against yours, cheek to cheek, and he lowered his voice to a whisper so soft it tickled your thought process. “My plans for you have changed entirely, love.”

There was that word again.

Why did it make you want to strip off all of your clothes right now?

There was something about this man and the way his hands felt like electricity; like energy was coming off of him in waves that made your nerves spark and tingle. And his eyes, that were dark and completely locked onto your own, unwavering, when he looked at you. They were tempting eyes, teasing eyes, and they were telling you all kinds of things; telling of darkened rooms, silk sheets, and of a want so acute that it pained you even though you were seeing it in his gaze.

You had to ask.

“Plans? What do you want with me?”

“Too many questions,” he said instead of answering you. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

“What do you…”

But before the words had fully left your lips, he snapped his fingers once more. The crowd was moving and you were blinking up at this man, confused.

What had you been talking about?

Your head seemed heavy and fuzzy like there was something that you should remember, needed to remember. It was very important, you knew, but as you racked your brain for whatever it was, the thought slipped further and further away until it was gone.

Instead of letting you dwell on it long, the man before you pulled you against him as the music changed to a swift beat, reminding you that he was there. Had you been dancing with him? You weren’t sure, but why else would you be in his arms? You must have had more to drink than you thought.

He was so damn attractive and he moved with you, with the music, like he knew just how to use his body. A thumb, pressed against the small of your back where it had slipped under your shirt, traced circles and rose goosebumps along your flesh. You fell into his rhythm and rocked against him, his hips meeting yours, and you pressed closer, wanting more of the delicious friction building between you. He was more than happy to oblige, his other hand wandering to cup your backend and he gave you a playful squeeze, making your stomach clench.

Then he leaned in, his chilled lips meeting yours in a soft, sensual kiss that cleared the doubt from your mind quickly and set it on one track: the bedroom. His talented mouth caressed yours and you shivered, winding your arms around his neck, teasing his mouth open with your tongue. He broke away for a moment, chuckling breathily and shaking his head as if you had surprised him, and quickly came back to take advantage of your eagerness. He pulled away, moments or hours later you couldn’t be sure, but kept his lips against yours as he spoke.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter so we can...talk.”

You would do anything for this man right now.

“And...you are?”

And you didn’t even know his name.

“Loki,” he laughed, his eyes changing colors with the strobe lights and it was mesmerizing. “Loki Odinson.”

If only you knew.


	2. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is straight smut and if that's not your cup of tea, the next chapter will be posted immediately after this one so you can skip it without missing plot stuff. Thank you.
> 
> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
> 1\. Closer by Nine Inch Nails  
> 2\. Slow Hands by Niall Horan  
> 3\. Gorilla by Bruno Mars

One attempt to unlock the door.

Two.

Loki was doing his best to distract you, all hands and mouth.

“Stupid thing…”

On the third try, Loki finally lost his patience for your fumbling fingers and slid his hands under your thighs, lifting you. Your back hit the door, hips perched on his, and his mouth found yours, not caring that anyone could have stumbled upon you in the hotel hallway. The brusque kiss left you panting and his mouth drifted lower, teeth and tongue grazing softly. Along your jawline, the hollow of your neck, your collarbones, he sucked, surely raising blood to the skin.

Using your distraction to his advantage, he slyly swiped the keycard from you, reaching for the reader by the handle. Before he could find it, you pulled him back to you by the lapels of his jacket and traced the warm shell of his ear with your lips, making him shudder and his hands went still. Then you bit softly at the earlobe and he chuckled breathlessly, dropping the card completely.

He shifted your weight against the door, rutting against you and you could feel every inch of him through his slacks. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hand searching blindly until you found the band that kept his hair tied back and you tugged, the silky locks falling free into your grasp. It was the perfect length to tangle in between your fingers and he groaned into your mouth.

You just couldn’t take it anymore.

Drunk on him and the heady effect he had on you, you felt brave as you slipped from his arms. He watched, chest heaving and loose hair casting a shadow over his eyes, as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You grabbed him by the belt and drew him closer with a sharp jerk, earning a surprised chuckle. Your mouth found the imprint of him through his pants, wet lips catching on the fabric as you teased him. His breath left his lungs in a rush of hot air and his hands found the back of your head, urging you closer.

He did not see you blindly patting the ground for the keycard and when your fingers closed around it, you gave him a soft peck and rose to your feet. With a triumphant grin, you waved it at him. His mouth twisted to one side, eyes flashing in amusement.

“Minx,” he breathed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Without taking your eyes off of him, you reached behind you to press the keycard into the slot and found the handle.

“Fuck me?” you suggested.

“Thoroughly,” he agreed, voice low and full of promise.

The door gave as you twisted the handle and you stumbled backward through it, dragging him with you. His laughter followed and you thought you would fall, but he caught you by the waist. He had your feet off the ground again, sweeping you up like it was nothing at all, and placed you on the edge of the bed.

The room was a blur of gray and white, mattering very little when he shrugged off his jacket and pressed you back down to the plush bedspread, leaning over you. His deft fingers spidered up your legs, clasping your knees in the palms of his hands, and he eased them apart, his own knee coming to press tauntingly at the apex of your thighs. You weren’t idle, popping the buttons of his shirt open one by one.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes and hands wander his lithe figure, loving the compact muscle and lightest smattering of soft, dark hair below his belly button. Just where had this little piece of perfection come from and what god decided you were worth his attention? He let out a hum of approval as you trailed a finger down his chest and the sound made your eyes dart back up to his face.

“Yes, like that,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers ghosting against your jaw and his heated gaze caught yours. “Look at me.”

You cupped his face in your hands, returning the tender gesture.

“Good thing I like your lovely eyes.”

Your tone was cheeky, but genuine nevertheless. You had never seen eyes such rich, dark green eyes in all of your life. He blinked, seeming taken back and his answering smile was wry.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”

Still, his hand covered yours, leaning into your touch. When he bent down to press his lips to yours again, he was much more gentle than before. It was almost sweet.

In between kisses, he helped you work your shirt over your head and pulled the cups of your bra down, pushing your breasts up to taste. His tongue was as wicked as you thought it would be, flicking at the swell of your nipples and taking one in between his teeth while kneading the other. You gasped, arching your back and without hesitating, he unclasped your bra like he had done it a million times before, and it was gone. Your skirt and panties quickly followed, just getting in the way of his eagerness to touch and taste every inch of skin on your body.

He pushed up onto his elbows, panting, and his eyes, dark with plans revolving around you, roamed over your exposed body. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought that maybe you should feel flustered or shy for laying so brazen and bold, panting, under this gorgeous stranger. Instead, you kicked off your heels, the last thing on your body, and you were bared to him completely.

He smirked.

He bowed his head again and began to work his way down your body, leaving marks as he circled your ribs, your abdomen, your navel, your hips, and ahh...your thighs. You lifted your hips off the bed, seeking his touch and this did not escape his attention. His lips parted in anticipation, hovering over you and he blew his cool breath against your sensitive skin.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes... _yes_.”

One finger dragged along the length of the slit, teasing the lips very carefully. Heat bloomed in your stomach, toes curling from the tormenting touch. You were slick, he could have easily slipped his finger in. You wished that he would.

“No, no, no. Not yet, pet,” his eyes flickered at you devilishly, loving how easily he had you completely undone.

He wanted you to beg.

You could practically see it in his eyes as he lowered his mouth to you, his tongue peeking from his parted teeth playfully. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, seeming lost in you. Then his nose, just the very tip, pressed against your clit so lightly that you could only just tell he was there and he exhaled, his eyes fluttering open and meeting yours as he did, his eyes playful and yet commanding.

“Don’t look away.”

How could you?

You were enslaved not by his words, but delicious anticipation. He watched you as you watched his tongue follow the path of his fingers and your legs went limp, sinking into the warmth of his kiss. It reminded you of the kiss you had shared earlier on the dance floor; slow, sensual, and seemingly endless. As his tongue and lips kissed and sucked, his thumb found your clit and pressed into it in unhurried, soft circles. He knew exactly how to bring you so close to bursting in minutes, but pulled away just as you started to tip over and kissed everywhere but where you needed him to be, his laughter warming your already too hot thighs.

“Yes, love, I know,” he groaned, sounding just as aroused you felt. “I know you’re hurting.”

The desperation to let go was painful, but it was so intermixed with pleasure that you couldn’t make heads or tails of it. You felt like if he kept this up much longer, you would burn up from the inside out and take the whole building down with you. He knew it as he sat up, his lips still wet with you, and he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste how much you wanted him.

He was goading you on and on, using your own body against you.

He was winning.

Then suddenly he was in you, one finger slipping in and making you break the kiss with a low moan.

“You are so wet for me, but so tight. I don’t think you’re quite ready yet.”

He laughed as you dragged your hands through your hair in frustration. Another joined the first after a few gentle, slow strokes that made the heat in your thighs and belly ignite into flames, dancing just below your skin and leaving you gasping. He stretched his fingers slightly, testing what you could take, and continued to move in and out, in and out, in a patient, coaxing manner. He made slow, sweet love to you with his hands, as if he was in no hurry at all.

"Fuuuuck," you hissed, eyes closing as the duo curled just right to make you clench around him and his thumb found your clit again.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The merciless pleasure rose from your belly and up your neck, crackling through you like a bolt of lightning. You let go, your knees trying so hard to come together to channel the explosive orgasm that rocked you, but his free hand was there to keep your legs open to him.

"No, no," Loki's hold on you was firm. "I'm not done with you yet. "

"I can't..." you choked out

“You can and you will."

He continued to let his fingers pump inside you, faster now, and his thumb pressed your clit in brutal, sharp circles. It was so different from before, so totally overwhelming. He made you ride the wave higher and higher until your voice broke as you cried out and your mind went white hot, lost to gratification. You shuddered under him, unaware that he had stopped touching you until he kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear.

“That was beautiful.”

You could barely hear him, letting your head fall against his as you desperately tried to make your lungs work. Function. Breathe. Think.

Instead, you covered your face and started laughing.

“Oh dear,” he shifted to sit beside you on the bed and rubbed your legs with gentle, soothing touches, giving you a moment to recover. “Did I break you?”

“Almost,” you sounded breathless, languidly stretching your legs and enjoying the fuzziness lingering in your knees and toes. “It’s been awhile.”

“Happy to oblige,” Loki's words were smug and his hands were petting between your legs again. “You are still so ready for me. I think you would look exquisite on your hands and knees."

“Not yet."

Loki's eyes burned at your denial, a playful comment about to leave his lips, but you didn't give him the chance. Your hand slid down his hard stomach, only hesitating for a moment to play with the hair along his navel. His pants unzipped easily and after very little effort, he was unsheathed and hot in your palm. He hissed in surprise, his mouth going slack as your hand closed around his length tightly. One stroke, two strokes, and then you got a good grip on him, dragging his skin up and down the bone hard shaft. After a few moments you both grew frustrated with his pants, so tight and in the way, and Loki lifted his hips, allowing you to push them off.

Then you swallowed him whole.

“Ohhhhh..." 

Loki's head fell back, mouth falling open and his fingers twisted into your hair, keeping you close. All you could hear was the wet of your lips gliding along his length and his heavy panting. Deeper down you went, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, and your fingers wrapped around him, stroking what you could not fit inside your mouth. He called your name, urging you to suck faster, harder, and your tongue swirled around the firmness, tracing the veins that strained against his skin. 

"No more," Loki demanded, his words lacking conviction and he tugged on your hair, lifting you carefully from him. "Hands and knees. Now."

His eyes were unfocused and his cheeks ruddy. Why would you stop when he obviously enjoyed it so much? You shook your head, trying to keep the grin off your face, but failing as you bobbed up and down on him once more. 

"Stubborn girl."

The game you were playing made his eyes bright with excitement and his smile was full of bad intentions. He released your hair and his hands were on your waist in a flash, twisting you around. You squealed, scrambling to crawl away from him, but your legs felt like jelly and he was persistent. He gripped you firmly, much stronger than he looked, and pulled you back against his front. You could feel him as he rubbed against the folds of your lips, still moist from your tongue, and Loki leaned over your back, his long locks tickling your bare shoulders.

"Face down," Loki growled in your ear, using his weight to keep you in place.

"Make me."

His chest shook as he snickered, kissing your neck so, so gently. A snide comment died in your throat as his teeth grazed your skin and you cried out when they clamped down on your shoulder. One of Loki's arms wound around your waist, keeping you flush against him, and the other was on the back of your head, guiding your cheek down to the mattress. He held you there for a heartbeat, giving you plenty of time to object. You pushed back without warning instead, sinking down onto his cock in one quick move.

The sound he made was inhuman.

Every thought in your head scattered as he filled you all at once. It was as if you had never come at all and your body was thrumming with renewed need. Whatever he wanted to give, you were willing to take.

"Loki," your traitorous mouth whimpered. "Please."

"Yes," his words were guttural and strangled. “You are _glorious_.”

His hips began to roll, casting you adrift in sensation. You didn’t care if you were too loud, that the whole floor could probably hear you. He had found the spot that was going to make you lose your mind. He picked up a relentless, brutal pace and rocked into you, but it didn’t seem like you could take too much more after he had already teased you so much before. From the way his breathing was getting rougher and faster against your neck, where his lips were pressed and murmuring sweet nonsense, it seemed like he was not far behind. He sent you higher and higher. Every time his cock slammed back into you, you thought you would shatter, but somehow his whispers held you together.

"Soon," he soothed, a laugh present in his hisses and groans. "Almost there."

You shoved back into his every thrust, meeting him with eager abandon every time. His arm that was around your waist shifted, allowing him to grind his fingers against your clit and his other arm slipped up between your breasts, lifting until you were both on your knees. He bounced you easily on his hips, pushing even deeper that way.

You couldn’t hold out any longer. As your legs began to shake and electric snapped along your nerves, Loki tilted his head, his mouth at your ear.

“Come, love,” he urged.

He was close, his voice strained between gritted teeth...

“Let go.”

And you did.

He was falling apart with you, pumping just a few more times until he released deep inside you and heat of it only added to your own pleasure. For a moment everything was too bright, too hot, too good and your body collapsed back against his, too weak to continue kneeling. He held you and kissed your shoulders sweetly until the last of your trembles faded.

“My sweet, perfect girl, you did so well.”

You were too out of it to notice it as he growled those last few words and kissed you softly on the head.

He had claimed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Always use condoms and other protection.
> 
> I don't post this type of stuff very often. I'm surprised I uploaded it at all. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Toxic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Toxic by Melanie Martinez  
> 2\. Bad Intentions by Niykee Heaton  
> 3\. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground
> 
> I also made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp) on Spotify with all of the songs so far if anyone was interested in that.

Muffled vibrations woke you.

“Mmm...”

At first, you were going to just ignore it and drift back off. The rhythmic buzzing finally stopped and you sighed happily, burrowing back into the covers. Then it started again, sounding more persistent as you started to really wake up. Your eyes, heavy and groggy, were reluctant to open and you had to blink a few times to clear your bleary vision.

You bolted upright.

The room was barely familiar, having been much too preoccupied to pay it any mind before, and it finally registered just how expensive it must have been. The modern suite was decorated in cool grays and crisp whites, abstract monochrome paintings hung on the walls and through the open curtains, the view of the city skyline against a blue dawn was breathtaking. Every muscle in your body ached, your clothes lay scattered on the ground and...

You were alone.

Your neglected phone stopped vibrating only to start again a few seconds later. You stretched out your arm, trying to unearth the purse hidden somewhere under the clothes, and you fished out your phone. Recognizing the contact on the screen, you immediately put it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“There you are! You were supposed to text me so I knew you were alive!”

“I’m okay! Sorry,” you said, rifling through the clothes on the floor to look for your underwear. Instead, you found your shirt and picked it up. “I was a little sidetracked…A lot sidetracked.”

“That good?”

Your friend started to rattle off a million questions, but you weren’t listening anymore. You picked up a pair of black slacks that definitely weren’t yours. Your face started to burn as you remembered pulling them off and throwing them in that general direction just hours ago. If they were still there then...

“Finally awake I see.”

Just as tall and striking as the night before, Loki entered from a door you couldn’t see from the bed and steam followed him into the room. He was absentmindedly drying his wet hair with a towel and that was it. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing on him at all. With the city lights pouring in from the window, painting him and the haze a spectrum of colors, he almost looked like a trick of the eyes. An illusion.

“I’ll call you back.”

You ended the call--cutting off your friend’s loud protests--and lowered the phone to your lap. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but all you could manage was:

“Heeeeeeey?”

You cringed at the obvious panic in your voice. Whatever boldness that had possessed you the night before seemed to have fled you in your time of need. When you realized that you were just as naked as him, you quickly started to fix your inside out shirt. Something about that must have amused him, a grin pulling at his lips.

That mouth....

You had to look away.

“You choose now to be shy?” he teased. “How strange. I would almost think you to be a different person.”

Even though he chuckled, he wrapped the towel around his waist and turned his back to you, picking up the welcome card from the table. Not quite privacy, but as close as you were going to get in this situation. The whole thing left you feeling a little silly. After last night, after everything, how could you possibly get embarrassed now? You looked down at your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head with none of the urgency from before.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be weird. This is all a little new to me,” you said, taking a deep breath to calm your shaky heartbeat. “I’ve never done this before.”

Loki looked over his shoulder at you, a question written all over his face.

“What have you not done before? Because, and forgive me if I’m wrong, I think that I am not your first,” he said, quirking a brow. “You are quite the quick learner if that is the case.”

He was still teasing.

“No, no! Not that,” you objected, laughing then. “I mean...hooking up with a total stranger. Aren’t you supposed to have snuck off already, leaving a fake number behind or whatever? You’re going against a lot of stereotypes and cliches right now.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said without sounding even slightly apologetic.

“It’s not like that. Just...is your name _really_ Loki?”

He laughed loudly, seeming caught off guard by your question and he tossed the card back onto the table.

“It is,” he said, shaking his head as he walked across the room and stood in front of the mini bar. “You believed it to be a fake?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name,” you said defensively. “I figured you made something up. People do it all of the time.”

“And yet you came with me anyways? How daring of you,” his tone sounded disapproving, but his eyes were playful and bright. “If the practice of false names is so common, then what about you? Are you who you say you are?”

“Of course, but you’re not exactly Mr. Safe yourself, you know,” you shot back. “What if I was a murderer or something?”

“And what if _I_ was a murder?” he asked lightly. “Or something?”

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Then there’s going to be one hell of a fight and a trashed hotel room.”

That brought a smile to his face.

“There it is. I was wondering where that endearing insolence had gone,” he said and he pulled out one of the drinks from inside the cooler, inspecting it with a curious expression. “You are right. I could have left. I still can, if you would prefer?”

His tone was nonchalant, but he didn’t look your way as he opened up the bottle and took a small swig. He licked his lips and peered at the label on the fruity drink again. Then he shrugged and tipped the bottle back again, downing the rest in one shot.

“No, of course not. It’s _your_ hotel room,” you told him. “If anything, I should leave.”

“If you would like,” he said, finally turning to look at you and his expression was thoughtful. “However it is mine for the rest of the weekend.”

You blinked in surprise. Was that an invitation? Not giving you time to ponder that, he left the cooler and stood before you. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. His lips were sticky. He tasted like a bad idea coated with black cherry and vodka.

It quickly escalated. There was something there, this undeniable, dizzying chemistry between you that clouded your better judgment and his eager mouth persuaded what was left of it. You pushed yourself onto your knees, trying to get as close to him as possible, and his hands were in your hair, not letting you get away. Then you were on your back and he was crawling over you, his lips never leaving yours.

“What say you, love?”

Why would you waste a perfectly bad idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates, guys. I travel with my boyfriend for his job and wifi is a little hit or miss. Hopefully, two chapters will make up for it!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Howlin' For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Howlin' For You by The Black Keys  
> 2\. Animal by Chase Holfelder  
> 3\. Blank Space by I Prevail

You were a whim at best.

Yet Loki was...

“I love the pancakes here.”

...intrigued by you.

You smiled at him over the top of the menu, fingers tapping some unfamiliar beat against the laminated pages. He wondered if it was out of nervousness or the habit of normally occupied fingers. There were a lot of things that he wondered about you.

You weren’t the only ones seeking refuge from the wet, autumn day in the small diner. A couple sitting a few booths over, all smiles and lingering stares, seemed oblivious to the dour, gray downpour. Lovestruck. They looked a little like the two of you.

“I’m partial to breakfast meats,” Loki said, forcing his eyes down to the menu on the table in front of him. “Does this establishment serve them?”

“Like bacon?” you asked, leaning over to point to a particular section on his menu. “Most meals let you choose between bacon and sausage as a side, but you can order extra if it’s not enough.”

“Excellent.”

Despite having no particular love for the realm or its inhabitants, Loki was a frequent visitor to Midgard. It had been so ever since he had learned how to shroud himself from Heimdall’s gaze years ago and discovered that the mortals had all but forgotten the gods of old, their stories faded away to nothing more than barely spoken folklore. It was an easy diversion, dipping his fingers into the affairs of the simple creatures and amusing himself with their strange ways. The internet and television were especially fascinating. 

And he found it was so much easier to breathe where no one knew his name.

He usually did not linger long. He would be missed if his wanderings took him from court for too long. If only for the fact they would become suspicious of his absence and end his fun. So why was he still there?

He could only chalk it up to simple curiosity.

“So,” Loki started after the orders had been placed. “Now that we aren’t in the vicinity of a bed, tell me about yourself.”

“We do have a very nice, sturdy surface here,” you whispered mischievously, pressing a palm to the tabletop.

By Odin’s mangled eye, just what manner of creature were you?

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned in a low murmur, leaning closer. “I would not mind giving the patrons here some live entertainment.”

He had the pleasure of watching your cheeks go rosy as you laughed. It was easy to make you do so and normally he would have been inclined to think you daft for it, but for some reason or another, he didn’t really mind. In fact, he seemed to have developed the quick practice of trying to hear it as often and as many times as he could.

It was a very pleasant laugh.

“Maybe after we eat. I’m starving,” you said breezily. “What do you want to know?”

So many things. Everything, if it meant sating this fleeting interest and being done with it. However, an outright interrogation might come off a tad too strong and he decided to start small for the moment.

“What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, you know...secret spy stuff.”

Loki scoffed at your playful smile.

“Just kidding. Nothing too exciting,” you said, shrugging. “I work for the government. Pushing papers, data processing, that sort of stuff.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as you averted yours. He smelled deceit. What reason would you have to lie about something as simple as that? It seemed understanding you would require time he didn’t usually afford and a patience he didn’t feel, but he was set on this. On you.

“I was just promoted though,” you added, sounding quite proud of yourself. “I started out at a technician years ago and I busted my ass to get to where I am now.”

That, at least, seemed genuine.

“You have my congratulations,” he said. “Do you enjoy it?”

“I do,” you said, another short answer. “What about you?”

You were looking at him expectantly, leaning on the table and eyes bright with interest. He _could_ tell you about his true identity, of Asgard, the Nine Realms and all that came with it. But you weren’t likely to understand or believe him and even if you did, it would just muddy the waters. Perhaps you lying about your profession was not so strange, but it did leave him with more questions than answers.

“I’m a sorcerer.”

You did not seem impressed. You sipped at the straw in your drink, looking as dubious as you possibly could. The sudden switch brought a smile to his face.

“You’re missing a long, white beard, Gandalf.”

“I am Loki.”

He must have misunderstood something if the strange face you made was any indication. Midgardians and their culture always seemed to elude him. Still, he could not deny the rush of relief he felt when no hint of sudden recognition showed on your face. He truly was a perfect stranger, a total unknown to you, and you seemed just as eager to know him as he was to know you.

You didn’t know any better.

“I work for my family’s investment firm,” he quickly continued, deciding not to get too close to the truth again. Even for the sake of a jest. “We’ve been in the business for generations.”

He fell into the same story he used whenever he was on Midgard. It easily explained his ability to get his hands on whatever he desired when he desired it. People were usually too awed or constrained by the socially expected mores to ask too much more.

“Whoa. Talk about old money.”

“Yes, I have heard that before.”

“That explains the swanky hotel,” you said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a hotel room with a mini-bar before the other night.”

“Then it’s good you keep such superior company,” he said with a grin. “What about your family?”

The smile you gave was heartwarming. He made note that this was clearly a more acceptable topic than speaking about work and he decided to avoid that for the time being. You answered immediately, much more forthcoming and he was quick to return the favor, keeping details vague. Half truths, almost lies, but enough to keep the conversation sincere.

He wondered why he went even that far.

“Where are you from?” you asked him suddenly. “I really love your accent.”

“London,” he said, another outright lie but it was the closest that their mortal drivel came to sounding like his intonation and he had been there before at least. “Have you ever been?”

“Only for work, but I really want to go and take my time!” you exclaimed, enthusiastic. “If I ever manage to get some vacation time, I swear I’m going on a tour of Europe. I might not ever come back.”

“Why have you not traveled more for leisure?”

“Well, it’s not exactly cheap. I've been some places though.”

“Oh? Where?”

To his surprise, he was actually interested in every pointless, meaningless thing that tumbled out of your mouth. He just had to hear every story you had to tell, all of your life experiences, and every fumbled punch line. It was fascinating to him, so long as it involved you somehow. The more you told him, the more he wanted to know.

You were just so...

“Loki? Is there something on my face?”

He didn’t know.

He caught the hand you were waving in front of his face and brought it to his lips. The surprise and color on your face were just as great as he expected it would be. He wanted to see the other expressions you made, hear every sound, and learn all of your little ways. If he let you know him in return, even a little, would you be just as captivated?

“Forgive me, darling, I am fatigued. _Someone_ has been keeping me too preoccupied to sleep.”

He was going to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this story takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, you will probably notice that I took some liberties with elements from the comics and even the lore. So it's not exactly the same as the movies. I hope that's okay. :)
> 
> P.S. If you haven't read Young Avengers and Loki: Agent of Asgard, you absolutely should.


	5. Do I Wanna Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys  
> 2\. Love Is Blindness by Sixpence None The Richer  
> 3\. Fragile by gnash and WRENN

He didn’t have a Facebook.

That alone was a big enough red flag to make you stop and think. The last few days had been too much like a daydream, a fantasy. Between frequent, too sweet kisses, testing every surface in the suite, and food, so much delicious liquor and food, you had gotten a little whisked away. Social media was what brought you back to reality.

No Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, or even a Google account. He claimed to have had some of them, but he deleted them a few years ago because they were too much of a bother and he preferred his privacy. You weren’t so sure. You made a living by learning things about people that were hard to discover and you couldn’t find any trace of him online, besides sharing a name with some pagan deity.

But he _did_ have a phone.

Whoo-ee, he sure did.

“...this must be handled delicately…”

You were in a meeting, sneaking pictures of puppies wearing Santa costumes to Clint Barton across the room. Loki had been away on business for a few days, _of_ _course,_ he was in Europe, and he had sent you plenty of photos to fuel your desire to travel. One smug-faced selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower was almost tempting enough to blow off work and book the first flight to France. It didn't help that he kept promising you the best time of your life if you did.

“...the location must not be compromised…”

A notification appeared at the top of your screen.

_Snapchat 6:32am_

_Loki_

You couldn’t press the notification fast enough, opening the application and you impatiently waited for it to load. Once it did, you only had ten seconds to appreciate his reflection smirking up at you from a full-length mirror, fog smudging his outline. He must have just stepped from the shower, hair clinging to his forehead and cheeks, chest glistening, and wearing only a loosely tied robe. A black banner and words cut across the middle of it.

_Paris would be more beautiful if you were here._

“Excuse me,” a voice cut sharply through your daze. “Are you paying attention?”

“Huh?” you said intelligently, looking up from your phone and you realized that everyone was staring at you.

Maria Hill at the front of the room was the only one that didn’t look amused.

“Yes, of course,” you lied, shoving your phone further under the table. “Delicately. No compromising. Super important.”

The woman sighed and went back to the briefing. Clint was shooting you a shit-eating grin from across the room and you flashed him the bird not-so-discretely. When you went back to your phone, the image had already timed out.

Thank goodness for Replays and screenshots.

You were obviously _very_ conflicted when it came to the man.

He was just such an unknown that you felt like you had no solid footing. He had told you a little about his work and family, but you could tell where the gaps were in his explanations. He was definitely holding back, but you just weren’t sure how much.

It was possible to find out if you really wanted to put in a little effort. You had all of the resources at your fingertips to unearth anything and everything about almost anyone. Especially with the new clearance you had been recently granted at work. Never mind the forms you signed that clearly stated that you wouldn’t use the intelligence network for personal reasons—who actually listened to that?  You could do it, but...

 _Should_ you?

Was it even that important? There were things you absolutely could not tell him about. Even the smallest peep about work could not only jeopardize everything you ever worked for, but also put you in the slammer. Maybe him too. Some of it you wouldn’t have told him, told anyone, even if you could.

You couldn’t invade his privacy like that. It wouldn’t be right and you would feel like a total creep. Besides, it’s not like the two of you were anything serious. Keep casual fun casual, right?

But on the other hand…

What if…

It could be…

You were still debating with yourself while standing in line at the market long after you left the office. The only thing that made you stop was the buzz of your phone in your purse. You pulled it out, expecting it to be a work email, but instead, it was a text.

_—Loki 7:43pm_

_Where are you?_

You quickly texted back.

_—7:48pm_

_Heading home. Where are you?_

_—Loki 7:52pm_

_I just got back into the city. Are you free?_

_—7:56pm_

_Sure. Meet me at my apartment._

You sent off another text with the address of your apartment building, paid for your groceries, and started in that direction. The argument you had been having with yourself for days was silenced, if only for the moment, and there was a little hop in your step as you walked the few blocks to your street. As you turned the corner, you were surprised to see a car parked in front of the building. Only a handful of your neighbors owned them and they usually parked in the back lot.

Then you noticed him leaning against it, hands buried in his pockets. Wearing a trench coat and dark slacks, he suited the sleek, black sporty car. You didn’t know much about cars, only that it was branded Jaguar and looked anything but cheap.

“Nice wheels,” you complimented, peering at it curiously. “I didn’t know you drove.”

“Do you not?” he asked.

“I know how to, in theory, but I never could afford a car,” you said. “Maybe with my raise I’ll be able to. I’ll have to look into that. Anyways, how was the flight? It’s like, what, eight hours from here to France? Are you jet-lagged?”

“No, it went by quickly. I slept,” he said and glanced down at the bags in your hands. “What did you purchase?”

“Stuff for dinner,” you held them up. “Do you like potatoes?”

“There are people who don't like potatoes?”

“I knew I liked you for _some_ reason.”

You were about to invite him up when he reached for you, tugging on the sleeves of your coat. You stumbled forward into his embrace and he held you close as he kissed you. His lips were cold. His nose and cheeks too. Had he been waiting awhile? Cold or not, you melted against his chest.

It didn’t make sense for you to have missed him so much.

“May I join you for dinner?” he murmured against your lips.

“Luckily for you, I always make way too much food.”

“Good. I am starving.”

The way he was looking at you made it fairly obvious that he wasn’t thinking about potatoes.

Dinner got pushed off a little bit, but eventually your rumbling stomach sent you from the bedroom and back into the kitchen. A few chopped potatoes, bell peppers, onion, sausage, and crushed garlic later, dinner was baking in the oven. Loki actually helped, skillfully cutting ingredients like he did it all of the time.

“So you can cook?” you asked him, sitting with him at the table.

“Not exactly,” he said without elaborating.

You cast him a curious expression and he just smiled in response. Apparently, that was all the answer you were going to get. 

“You know, you’re pretty spoiled,” you said, deciding not to push the matter. “You got a booty call _and_ a meal on top of it.”

He cocked his head, looking confused.

“Booty call?”

You couldn’t help but snicker. Didn't he know what that meant? There really was a slight language barrier between the two of you sometimes. You had to tell him about Urban Dictionary someday.

“You know, texting me so you can come over late at night for some good old fashioned naked wrestling?”

“Ah, I see,” he said, grinning. “The way you put things sometimes. It’s almost poetic.”

“What can I say? It's a gift.”

You were starting to get cold, wearing only your robe. You walked over to the couch, where unfolded laundry lived permanently in a basket, and rummaged through it. One t-shirt and pair sweatpants later, you started to change right there in front of him. It’s not like it was anything he hadn’t already seen before.

“Be still.”

You paused in the act of slipping on the shirt, looking over your shoulder at Loki who had gotten up from the table. His expression had switched from one of smug content to one of slanted brows and downturned lips. He moved to stand behind you, long fingers deftly pulling the shirt back over your head.

“Loki—again?”

“Not that,” Loki’s eyes shot up to your face for a second and a sly smirk flipped his lips shortly. “At least not yet.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes only because the displeasure was back on his face and it was directed at your back. His fingertips were tracing an oblong circle to the left of your spine and it tickled. A moment passed and still he didn’t say anything, but you could not see what he was doing.

“What is it?”

“How did I not notice this earlier?”

“Notice what?”

He pressed at the center of the circle he had made lightly, drawing out a flinch and a low hiss of pain through your teeth.

“Oh... _that_.”

“This bruise is very large,” his words were dripping with disapproval. “How did you receive it?”

You twisted around to face him, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. It had been a long while since you had to explain these things to someone.

“I fell earlier,” you blurted out.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I somehow managed to slip on the stairs at work.”

Loki appeared unnerved by the revelation and looked you over with more scrutiny than before. He quickly found the other dark, blotchy spots on your shoulder and the scrapes on your wrist. You hadn’t noticed them much, too used to the beating you got in the training room by now. You would have to repay Natasha in kind tomorrow.

“I’m so clumsy,” you added for emphasis and a spike of insecurity shot through your chest as he continued to stare. “That ugly, huh?”

“No, not ugly,” Loki said in a hushed tone, gentle fingers trailing along the edges of marked flesh again. “Are you in much pain?”

You were touched.

“No, I’m fine. I fall all the time.”

“Well…”

Loki gripped your sides firmly, just above your ribs, and you felt the familiar glide of his lips as he pressed multiple soft kisses along your back and shoulder. Then he caught your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“...just to put my mind at ease then.”

You hated to admit it, but your heart fluttered then. Just a little bit. Why did he have such a strong effect on you?

Then the timer for the oven went off and you were able to pull away, putting the shirt on. You needed to put a little space between you so you could think straight. He was just...so much, too much. Dinner was a welcome distraction.

“This is surprisingly delicious,” Loki spoke up while you were eating.

“Did you doubt my cooking abilities?” you asked him, playfully aghast.

“I would not say doubt, just…” he fixed you with a thoughtful expression. “I did not think you would be so domestic.”

You shrugged.

“I’m not really. Just look around my apartment. There are a lot of things I could be better about. Especially laundry,” you said. “But when you live alone, you need to know how to do a few things at least.”

“How long have you lived on your own?”

“For several years now,” you told him. “I probably should get a cat or something, but it wouldn’t be fair. I’m not home enough.”

“No roommate? A boyfriend?”

“No roommate and do you really think I’d be spending time with you if I had a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. You are a very beautiful woman,” he said offhandedly. “It is hard to imagine that men leave you alone.”

Even though you wanted to believe you weren’t so easily charmed, you flushed.

“I’m married to my work.”

“I see. So they try to woo you, but you do not let them,” he surmised on his own. “I pity them, but it’s too late now.”

“What do you mean?”

His stare was suddenly heated, sending blood rushing up from your neck into your cheeks and down to your stomach where it coiled into a knot of desire. You felt pinned and exposed under his gaze. How could he make you feel so breathless with just a look?

“Do you really think that I am going to let them have you now?”

He smirked and took another bite from his fork, never breaking eye contact with you. There went your heart again. Noisily rattling around in your chest like it knew better than you did.

You were in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's face it. In this modern age, we likely wouldn't continue seeing someone if they didn't have a cell phone (or if they tried to say they didn't have one anyways) and I feel like Loki would love Snapchat a little too much.


	6. Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood  
> 2\. Swoon by Beach Weather  
> 3\. Wrong by MAX

“Go get ready.”

“Never.”

You, with all the force a mighty warrior, ripped the shower curtain shut and held it. He, with barely any force, slid the curtain back open with a laugh for your efforts and revealed you fully. The shower head was crooked, you had meant to fix it, and the water splattered messily off the edge of the porcelain tub. Your hair was a swoop of white, sweet-smelling froth and your body, utterly naked and glistening, was probably a fine sight until you crossed your arms over your chest in a vain attempt to hide.

“Oh, please don’t do that, love,” he said, pouting way too well for a grown man.

“Didn’t you say the movie starts in an hour?” you asked, but the thought was pushed away as he took your wrists in his hands and pulled them apart so he could look at you.

_Oh._

“One moment.”

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Undressing.”

“Did I say you could join me?”

The plastic rings clattered together as Loki swiftly shut the curtain around you. You felt his still cool body pressing against you, quickly warming to match your body temperature. His outline glided against yours, hard muscles slick with suds and water. His abdomen wasn’t the only thing that was firm.

“Did I ask?”

“We’re going to be late.”

“There are later showings.”

Then he kissed you and whatever argument you had went right down the drain.

You did eventually make it to the cinema, catching one of the evening showings. Loki sat through the whole movie, looking much too self-satisfied as he curled his arm around your shoulders. You could practically hear him purring.

“I’m not big on stupid humor movies,” you said as you left the theater and headed for the exit.

“Nor I.”

“Why did you pick it then?”

“I was misled by the title.”

“What did you _think_ ‘Saving Mr. Monkey’ was about?”

“I thought they would be trying to save a man’s life, not ingesting drugs, hallucinating that an animal could talk, and attempt to break it out of a zoo.”

“Who decides to watch a movie without seeing the trailer first?”

“I thought the title was self-explanatory. I now know better,” he said defensively.

You laughed as you pushed open the doors and stepped out onto the street. Instantly you balked against the cold, nuzzling your face into your collar and wrapping your arms around yourself. Loki, seeming totally unaffected, continued to walk beside you without noticing. You stared at him for a second, his black hair neatly slicked back and his long legs stretched out from underneath his fashionable, gray coat. He looked very, very handsome and was dressed nicely, as usual, seeming to only own expensive suits and jackets.

You wondered if his clothes cost more than all of the furniture in your apartment. It wasn’t really that outrageous of a thought. Thrift shops and bargain hunting were the only ways to get by in the beginning and you couldn’t make yourself throw out something that still worked, no matter how old and battered it looked.

Now that you were doing a little better, maybe you should invest in a better wardrobe?

“Where to next?” Loki asked, pulling you from your musing.

You had to fight the urge to laugh because his tone and entire body practically dripped with his unsaid, “Since we made the mistake of leaving the bed at all.” When he pulled a very bad fake yawn, you lost it and laughed anyway, bumping his hip with yours.

“Calm down, horndog.”

You were sure he didn’t understand the moniker from the way he was frowning at you. He still had a lot of catching up to do, despite you catching him Googling the things you’ve said several times now.

“I’d like to do some shopping,” you slipped your arm through his.

“Now?” Loki tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. “It smells like snow.”

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, a single white flake flitted down to the tip of your nose. Your jaw fell slack, amazed as the little specks dotted the sky and cityscape around you. The flurries started coming down fairly hard, so suddenly. After staring, utterly dumbstruck, for a few moments, you whipped your head up to gape at him in wonder.

“How did you do that?” you demanded.

“I told you that I was a sorcerer,” he offered with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, maybe we should have taken the car,” you said with a shiver.

“Actually...”

Loki undid the belt on his coat and pulled you against him before closing it completely around the pair of you.

“I think this is perfect.”

He made a very cozy coat. You leaned into him, enjoying the protective bubble of his grasp. He hummed pleasantly, kissing the top of your head as you stood there for a few moments together.

“You smell different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Hmm. No, it’s something else,” you pressed closer, breathing deeply. He smelled warm, despite the weather, like metal baking in the sun and the faintest hint of peppermint. You had caught the whiff of it from time to time, but it was stronger now than usual. Was it cologne? “It’s nice though.”

“What do I normally smell like?”

“Like an old man.”

He started laughing, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“I did not realize you thought so poorly of my hygiene.”

“Not like that. You know, like old books and garden dirt.”

“That is very specific.”

“You smell weird. That’s not my fault.”

This time when you started walking again, Loki kept your hand tightly in his pocket. You walked past the shops, Christmas displays brightening their windows with string lights, spruce trees, and colorful wrapping paper. The year was just flying by.

“Ah, Yule,” Loki said, stopping in front of the windows. “I forget how different things are here.”

“Really?” you asked. “It always looked similar enough on TV. Harry Potter lied to me.”

“While I grew up in England, my family hails from Norway. Our traditions are...different,” he said breezily, giving you a faint smile. “I forgot to mention it before.”

Norway? Like Vikings?

“That makes so much sense,” you said, relieved to finally understand his strange name. “So what do you guys do for the holidays?”

“Drink,” Loki said without missing a beat. “Eat, exchange gifts, buff my brother’s already inflated ego, drink some more.”

You looked at him in surprise. His lips were thin, pressed together as he stared at a small, laughing Santa figurine. It wasn’t the first time he’d been snide when talking about his brother or even his family in general.

“One of those things is not like the others.”

“It’s his birthday too,” he explained flatly.

“What’s up between you two?” you asked. “It sounds like more than just sibling rivalry.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Loki said dismissively.

Touchy subject.

“Weeell, other than your brother’s birthday, things don’t sound that different,” you said brightly, pulling on his arm. “Will you be celebrating with your family?”

“Most likely,” he answered, looking down at you. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a smile. “You might have a present waiting for you under my tree. You might not.”

His eyes brightened, leaning towards you with a wicked grin.

“Might it be you wearing nothing but ribbon?” he asked in a low whisper, tickling your ear. “Or perhaps a new toy to torment you with?”

You laughed loudly, making some passersby shoot you curious glances.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” you said. “But I was thinking more like socks. Maybe a watch but I don’t know if I can afford one as fancy as the one you already have.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your neck, bringing you close to kiss your forehead sweetly.

“I’ll gladly accept whatever you give me.”

“That reminds me. A friend of mine is having a party on the 24th,” you said. “Want to go with me?”

“Perhaps,” he said, eyes flashing playfully. “What will you be wearing?”

“Something scandalous and easy to take off,” you teased right back.

He hummed in approval.

“Then how could I possibly miss it?”

“So you’ll come?” you asked, sounding way more hopeful than you intended.

He considered for a moment, head tilted to the side, lips pressing flat together as he met your gaze.

“My parents can miss me for one evening,” he said. “I’ll accompany you to this party.”

Your heart soared and you could barely contain your glee. Pulling on his arm, you dragged him towards some shops down the street.

“Well come on then. We have to find the outfit that will bring you to your knees.”

“I doubt that will be a challenge for you, love,” he said. “You always bring me to my knees, but I accept nevertheless.”

You only made it through two stores and a handful of dresses before he cornered you in a dressing room. He slipped inside with ease and locked the door with sure fingers.

“Loki!” you hissed, panic spearing through you. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Not before I have you in that dress,” he murmured, taking your face in his hands and kissing you so fervently that your legs felt weak.

You wanted to argue, knew you should have, but his hands were on your hips, pressing you against his groin. He was hard as bone and gave a small, breathy moan at the friction. It was enough to undo you and you were kissing him back, teeth catching on his lips and jaw.

“We must be quick,” his voice was rough, uneven, breathing hard.

You quickly undid his belt and zipper, pushing down his slacks to his thighs. He sprung loose and you wanted so badly to put him in your mouth, but there was not enough time. He lifted you, bunching the dress around your hips, and pushing your panties to the side. You could hear the shop attendant speaking to another customer just outside the door, something about preferring chiffon, but it all washed away to white noise as he pressed the head of his cock against you and finding you wet, he pushed easily inside.

You stifled a groan, biting down on his shoulder hard, as he bounced you on his hips. This was not the slow love making of a lazy Sunday morning or the playful, precarious canoodling in the shower, but rather the feverish, unforgiving pace of two insatiable lovers. He held you aloft, not wanting to shake the flimsy structure of the stalls, your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you dragged yourself up against his chest and down onto his cock. It was a struggle to be quiet, both of you choking down your pleasure with wet, hungry kisses.

“Is everything alright in there?” a voice came from the other side of the door.

You broke away from Loki, breathing in gasps and tried to compose yourself.

“Y-yes!” you stammered and Loki pressed you down on him, stretching you and making your head fall back as hot pleasure shot through your cheeks, neck, thighs, everywhere. You had to wait for the climax to pass before you could speak again. “I have a few more to try on!”

There was nothing about your tone that did not betray what happening behind the thin door and there was a pause where you thought you were surely busted, but Loki never stopped pumping inside you, just slower, listening as well.

“I’ll be out here if you need any help.”

Loki laughed quietly in your ear and resumed fucking you without restraint. Completely fearless. Shamelessly devoted to pleasing you, no matter the danger. And honestly, the thrill of being discovered only made it that much better. You could tell from how jerky his movements had become that he was getting close and was pushing you to come again. It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall over the edge together and he sank down onto the bench, still buried inside you, cock twitching as you clenched around him. It was so hard not to scream, but somehow you managed.

“I believe,” he said with a failed attempt at equilibrium after a few breathless minutes and he ran his fingers through his hair. “we have found your dress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy this summer, but here's another chapter for you! I didn't warn about the sex scene in the beginning because I wanted it to be unexpected because honestly, I didn't mean to write it in the first place. Haha! It just manifested and I went with it! That being said, if any of you would like me to put a warning at the beginning, I absolutely will. Thank you so much for reading!


	7. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in juuuuu...August!
> 
> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
> 1\. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas by Michael Bublé  
> 2\. Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Market Irglova  
> 3\. Something Just Like This by Alex Groot and Madilyn Bailey

“What is _that_ supposed to be?”

You looked up from the long, battered box you had just dug out of the closet to find Loki peering disdainfully down at you over his cup of tea. You nodded to where the greenery burst through the top, attempting to escape from its cardboard prison. It never did go back in quite the same way after you first took it out. You expected it to be obvious, but he merely arched a brow as he waited for you to explain.

“My Christmas tree!”

He knelt beside you, sniffing at the box. Then he picked at one of the wire branches, rolling the plastic green needles in between his fingers. His flat expression made it abundantly clear that he was less than impressed.

“This is a poor substitute for a real tree,” he said. “It smells like must and chemicals.”

“Real trees are a pain,” you argued. “You have to keep them watered, constantly clean up all the needles, and not to mention that we’d have to haul it up four flights stairs.”

“You can’t celebrate without a real tree.”

“Are you some sort of Christmas expert now?” you asked.

He made a low humming noise in the back of his throat, neither confirming nor denying your jab. You were pretty sure he just believed he was an expert on everything.

“I’ll light a spruce-scented candle and you’ll never know the difference.”

Loki took a long sip from his mug, the silence stretching out for several beats, and finally offered a half-hearted, “If you say so, love.”

Something about his tone didn’t sit right with you.

“Since when are you so obedient?” you asked, eyes narrowed.

“If you are set on putting up this plastic monstrosity, I will not attempt to stop you,” he said, shrugging. “I just rather liked the idea of us going to find our own tree together.”

His words resounded in your head. _Our_ own tree _together._ They seemed innocuous enough, but he had to know that they would have the effect of a small nuclear explosion in your chest. He continued drinking his tea, hiding his mouth, and you suspected that he was smiling behind it.

Tentatively you asked, “Is that what you and your parents do?”

“No, we do not put up our own trees.”

“Trees?” you asked, surprised. “Plural?”

“Of course,” he said. “There are several and they all have to look flawless for the festivities.”

You considered that. They must be the sort of trees you saw on TV, with real crystal bulbs, airbrushed faux snow and life-sized nutcrackers guarding the presents.  They were always a huge hit at celebrity holiday parties, but you never really saw the point in having more than one. Maybe if you had a lot of presents to stuff under there. It was even weirder to think about other people decorating your house for you, like housekeepers or whatever.

Then your brain finished processing what he had said.

“Wait, are you telling me that you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before?”

“Not that I can remember.”

That was downright pitiful. You looked over at your “partially assembled” tree and had to admit it looked a little chintzy. Especially for someone’s first ever Christmas tree. You sighed and slowly stood up.

“What is it?” Loki asked, his brows raised as he looked up at you.

“Time to find a chainsaw.”

It turned out that most stores did not carry chainsaws and the nearest tree farm was over an hour out of the city. Loki let you drive, you did have your license even if you rarely used it, and you knew he would never let you live down backing into a snowman on the curb; “How dreadful. What will we tell his snow-wife and little snow-children?” Christmas songs played on every station, everything was covered a thick blanket of white, and the kids stumbling around were splashes of color in their thick, padded coats.

Thankfully the owners were used to their customers not bringing their own tools and supplied you with an axe. The snow was thicker out in the countryside, the two of you leaving trenches in your wake rather than footsteps as you trudged between the trees. Loki took the lead and you kept a tight hold on his hand, using him for balance. If you went down, you were taking him with you.

You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

“What are you grinning about?” Loki asked, his breath curling like smoke in the air and his pale cheeks were quickly ruddying. “I thought you didn’t want a real tree.”

“I guess it’s okay just this once,” you said. “I haven’t had someone to help me put the tree up in years. It’s kinda fun.”

“We shall see,” he said, eyes scanning the trees you passed like he was sizing up each and every single one. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with my underdeveloped decorating skills.”

“No worries. I’m a pro,” you teased, swinging your interlocked hands between you. “We still have to figure out how to tie it to the roof of the car though. We’ll be lucky if it makes it the whole ride back.”

He laughed then, squeezing your fingers tightly in between his. Finally, the Christmas spirit seemed to catch him. His smile had grown from a slight, fickle thing to a constant ray of sunshine warming the cold December day.

“There it is!” he called out suddenly.

You looked over to where he was pointing. A thirty-foot tall monster stood there, clearly left to its own devices for a long while now. The idea of trying to bring it down and then lug it back to the car exhausted you immediately.

“That’s not going to fit in my apartment,” you told him.

“But it would be the most magnificent tree ever seen.”

“Nope, keep walking, crazy-pants.”

After about twenty minutes of wandering, you found exactly what you were looking for. It was about seven feet tall, not too big around, but the branches were full and sturdy enough to hang plenty of ornaments. Loki hacked the thing down in minutes, much faster than you expected, and together you slowly started dragging it back towards the farmhouse.

“Something is wrong with that one.”

Loki nodded at a small, baby tree. It was terribly crooked but had an acceptable amount of green on its spindly branches. It would look perfect with one oversized, red bulb hanging from it.

“It’s so cute. It can be our Charlie Brown tree!” you exclaimed excitedly.

Loki frowned, gently prodding the tiny tree with the toe of his boot. It gave immediately, bending even more and shedding large clumps of its needles. Loki instantly jerked back from it, but the tree stayed slumped over anyways. He somehow managed to look personally affronted, as if the ruined sapling had been just waiting for someone to touch it so it could have a reason to give up the ghost.

“That thing is clearly diseased. I barely touched it,” he said hastily, face redder than the cold could take credit for, and he started looking around. “Perhaps we can find another.”

It took you a moment to understand the reason for his harried tone and eyes slipping past your face as if he couldn’t see you. He was _guilty_. It was a strange, new look on him.

“Loki, it’s fine. I think you’re right about it being sick,” you assured him, letting go of the big tree and kneeling beside the smaller one. “It’s probably going to die anyway, so let’s take it.”

He froze.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Why would you want such a small, ugly thing?”

“Well, that’s sort of the point of a Charlie Brown tree,” you said, laughing. “Just because it’s not the norm doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own charms. You’ll see. Come help me.”

Loki blinked at you for a moment before he dropped the tree and came to sit beside you. He first brought up the axe, but you shook your head and started to scoop away the snow. Then using the back of the axe, he helped you break up the hard dirt around it and used your gloves hands to dig it up. It was small enough that it didn’t take long at all and when you held it up triumphantly, roots and all, there was a furrow between his brows and a frown on his lips.

“What?” you asked him.

After a long pause, he reluctantly asked, “What is a...Charlie Brown?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“ _What?_ You’ve never seen Charlie Brown?” you asked.

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t have asked,” he said, tilting his chin up with as much dignity as he could muster.

“ _A Charlie Brown Christmas_? _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!_  Any of the comics?” you asked.

Loki continued to look equal parts perplexed and defensive of his ignorance.

“Seriously, what planet are you from and can you take me there?” you asked and that got him to crack a smile. “Well, I know what we’re watching later.”

Once you made it back to return the axe and pay for the trees, the couple let you take the small one for free. They were even kind enough to give you a small pot and some dirt for it, explaining how to care for it. They also laughed when you told them what you intended to use it for and Loki’s curiosity grew tenfold. Thankfully you had brought bungee cord and rope and after some finagling, the tree looked ridiculous but seemed sturdy enough on the roof of his Jag.

As you thought, the tree didn’t fit in the elevator and although it wasn’t heavy, it was awkward enough in shape to make the steps daunting. Loki went first, walking up the stairs backward, and he only pretended to drop it a handful of times before you made it to your floor. You set the small sapling on the balcony because the couple had said it needed to stay outside and got the big tree situated in the stand before busting out the decorations.

Loki was taking it all very seriously.

“You are putting them too close together,” he told you, reaching down to straighten the string lights that you were trying to wrap around the tree. “The bottom is starting to look crowded.”

“Well, excuse me,” you said, laughing.

He preferred the plastic bulbs and didn’t like the little figurine ornaments. Every time you tried to hand him a little Santa or reindeer, he would frown at it until you put it on yourself. For some reason, the sledding snowmen and caroling teddy bears were acceptable, although he did mumble about them being “unrealistic.” You let him put on the star, the jerk didn’t even need to stand on a chair to reach it. When you plugged it in, all of the lights came to life and the garland and bulbs shimmered. It wasn’t perfect or TV-worthy, but it looked great to you and begrudgingly you had to admit the sharp scent of spruce needles was a nice touch.

Loki stared at it for a long moment, his expression oddly blank. Then he shot you a broad grin over his shoulder. You could have sworn his head was growing right before your very eyes.

“See, darling, your fake tree does not compare.”

“Alright, alright. You win this once. Don’t get too smug.”

He looked quite victorious until he noticed the small tree through the glass doors. “What are you going to do with that thing?”

“Well they said it should probably stay outside, so I’ll keep it out here,” you said, grabbing one red bulb and slid open the door to step onto the balcony. When you put the single ornament on it, it leaned until the bulb hung over the edge of the pot. “I should probably do something about that.”

Using an old wooden spoon, you stuck it into the dirt and tied the tree to it. It still sagged but looked so much better propped up. When you turned the pot to hide the spoon from view and quickly wound some extra string lights around the railing, the balcony looked positively festive.

“Take a picture of me with it,” you said excitedly, crouching down beside it.

“I still don’t get it.”

“We haven’t watched the show yet.”

Loki didn’t seem convinced, but obliged and pulled out his phone. Before he could snap a photo you had a better idea and yanked him down with you, making him grunt in surprise. The look he shot you was dark enough to unnerve most people but you just took the phone from him and pulled him closer so you both would be in the photo.

“Shit, I only got me,” you said, handing the phone back to him. “Will you try? Your arms are longer.”

He sighed but did as you asked, stretching his arm up high and angling it until you both appeared on the screen, the lopsided sapling sitting between you, and took the photo. Just as you were about to relax your face, he lifted his other arm to reveal something in between his fingers, the iconic green leaves and white berries of mistletoe instantly recognizable, and caught your lips with his. Then he started to cover your cheeks and forehead with kisses too. Thank goodness there was no one else around or you would have been mortified by your snort-giggles. The whole time his finger was on the button, taking a burst of picture perfect moments.

Once you were back inside the warmth of the apartment you ordered a pizza and curled up on the couch with Loki. While you searched for _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ On Demand he showed you the photos he had captured. Your goofy grin, his laughing, persistent mouth, Loki getting perilously close to crushing the little tree as he tackled you to the stone floor of the balcony. His smile was crooked, but he seemed just as pleased with them as you did.

“I should put up more mistletoe,” he said, his fingers swiping absentmindedly through the burst photos.

“We would never get anything d—...”

You stopped talking, taken back by the phone. He had swiped one time too many and you were looking at yourself from above, curled on your side in the sheets of your bed, fast asleep. Realizing what you had seen, Loki was no longer smiling and his eyes were tight, little creases forming at the corners.

“You take photos of me sleeping?” you asked.

“Only once,” he said, the words sounding strangely strangled. “You looked especially lovely this morning.”

Something about his voice, the hunched shoulders, and thinned lips told you that there was more to it than that.

“Do you have other photos of me?” you asked.

Loki hesitated, clearly not wanting to answer the question, but he dragged his thumb across the screen to reveal an image of you in one of the shops from the other night, pressing a dress to your front while you studied your reflection in the mirror. Another of you drinking juice at the kitchen table, your hair a mess, barely conscious, and another of you cooking breakfast. The next was of you standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing one of his shirts and looking down at your phone while you brushed your teeth. There were even a few selfies you had sent to him, ones he must have saved, but the very last one was of you in his hotel room that first weekend, laughing with a bottle of wine in each hand.

“I didn’t even notice these,” you said quietly.

He was dead silent. His expression was hard, his features seeming to be carved from stone as he stared down at his phone.

“Why do you look like I just found your fetish porn stash or something?” you asked. “Or is that further on?”

He blew a puff of air between his lips, not quite a laugh and not quite a sigh.

“That is hidden much better than that,” he said lightly, but still, his face did not match his tone. “I just enjoyed the way you looked in those moments and wanted to remember them.”

He looked almost as surprised by his words as you felt and he slowly scrolled through the photos once more as if seeing them clearly for the first time. You didn’t know to say. On one hand, you were disappointed by your own lack of self-awareness, but you didn’t really mind that he found those small, candid moments important enough to keep. You’d never had anyone do anything like that before and it was nice to think that maybe you were important to him too.

You pulled out your own phone, opened up the camera and turned it on him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning away as if that would hide him from view.

“I want to take pictures of  _my_ favorite person too,” you said. “It’s only fair.”

His answering smile was warm enough to melt you and you were so glad you had your phone out. Then he pulled you towards him, lips and tongue intent on feelings yours. You took a photo of that too for good measure before he pulled it out of your hands and started kissing slowly down your neck.

 _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ would have to wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Okay. The party chapter was going to be posted next, but then I really wanted to slip this one in there so take this holiday fluffs four months early. Did you know they have Christmas decorations out at Hobby Lobby already?
> 
> Also, some interesting info for you if you didn't already know: Odin is thought to be one of the many possible inspirations for Santa Clause and Sleipnir (Yes, that one) is thought to be the inspiration for the reindeer. When Christianity began to replace pagan religions, it absorbed many traditions and celebrations from its predecessors. That included Saint Nick's famous appearance. The white beard, flying through the sky on a mythical creature and giving out gifts. So...
> 
> Loki is definitely on the naughty list.
> 
> Probably for making mistletoe into a weapon to kill Baldr.


	8. Bloodstream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Bloodstream - Quartet Session by Stateless  
> 2\. Blindside by Aquilo  
> 3\. To And Fro by Thomston

“Mother.”

Loki bowed his head to the All-Mother upon entering her private sitting room. She sat on a chaise lounge, dressed in a heavy cream-colored gown, beads and jewels adorning the high collar and sleeves. They were distracting enough to nearly mask the chest plate and pauldrons underneath. Her hair was swept over one shoulder and intricately braided, a small, concealed dagger pinned neatly in her curls. Loki had always admired the equal amounts of beauty and deadly capability the All-Mother possessed. 

She dismissed her handmaidens with a gesture and they quickly stood to leave. One of them, a small slip of a girl with pale blond curls and startling bright blue eyes, cast him a long glance as she followed the others out of the room. Loki found himself smirking back at her wolfishly, an old habit from an old hunger, before an image of your face swam behind his eyes and his smile fell flat. When he turned back to his mother she was smiling wryly herself, a brow raised and motioned to the spot beside her on the sofa.

“Sit,” she said. “I have been wanting to speak with you.”

“I am almost inclined to think I am in trouble, but I have been especially well-behaved as of late,” he said pleasantly, doing as she asked. “At least in my opinion.”

“Can a mother not speak to her child without reason?” Frigga asked him, taking his hands into her own and squeezing them.

“Yes, of course,” he said.

He and his mother spoke often so he knew the difference between a casual chat and the conversation they were having now.

“I missed you at the solstice feast,” she said. “Where were you?”

“I suppose I just was not in the mood for the festivities.” 

“It is not unlike you to disappear from time to time, but I have hardly seen you these last few weeks and when I do, you seem distracted,” she said. “Is there something I should be made aware of?”

Loki was considering a reply, but Frigga continued.

“Or someone?”

“Mother,” he started, trying to keep his expression as unruffled as possible and having years of experience, he succeeded. “If I  _ were  _ involved with someone, would you not have heard of it by now? These halls are not very good at keeping secrets.”

He did not mention that the person he was spending so much time with had never even seen the castle, let alone the halls. He knew she was probably thinking of one of the servants or a low-ranking noble. Not this time. 

“No, they are not, but you are,” she retorted with a knowing look.

This he could not deny. The thought of the scandal was almost tempting enough to let it slip, but he refrained. It would give too much away and he preferred to hold onto his ability to slip from one realm to the next on a whim for a little while longer.

“I am not ignorant to how it is with young men. Especially a handsome prince,” she said, waving away his denial as if it were nothing more than smoke. “And while I do not want to deny you your fun, I was hoping that you might soon settle down. Start a family. You have more freedom in your choice of partner than your brother, but I hope they are someone worthy of you.”

Someone worthy of him?

He took in the room and then the frozen gardens through the window, allowing himself to envision you at his side. You moving easily about the grounds and halls, dressed in fine gowns, armor, and furs as if you always had your whole life. All that was his would become yours to share and he would never have to spend another day apart from you. No more secrets, no more lies, just you and him for the rest of your lives.

He could see it clearer than anything else.

“I assure you, Mother, if ever such a person exists in this realm, I will marry them but please do not hold your breath.”

Frigga scoffed, swatting at his arm playfully and they moved onto more pleasant topics.

But his imagined future lingered.

As he left her chambers, he found the five girls waiting outside the door and their chatter hushed to timid silence as he joined them in the hallway. They all hastily turned their faces to the floor and curtsied. As he passed the last, she glanced up at him through her pale lashes and curled her lips into a small smile. He noticed once again the shocking blue of her eyes, outlined by dark lines of charcoal and contrasted by her near-white blond hair.

Loki paused, unable to tell if she was blatantly trying to get his attention or not, and arched a brow at the maiden. She immediately wilted under his scrutiny, eyes slipping back down to the floor and her pale cheeks pinkened. The other girls cast them quick, furtive looks and the smirk worked its way back to his face.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I am Sigyn Hlekkrdatter, Your Royal Highness.”

“Hlekkr,” he repeated slowly, thinking about it for a moment. “Have you been serving the All-Mother long?”

“No, Your Highness, I have been with her for only a few short days. My parents sent me to be in her care.”

“Ah,” he said, finally recognizing the name. He remembered seeing Lord Hlekkr of Haugenvaka and his wife at different banquets and celebrations in the past, but the girl had never been with them. Her parents must have recently decided she was old enough to be out in society. “I thought as much. I would have remembered your face.”

Sigyn flushed deeper, all the way down her neck, and a titter ran down the line of girls. She didn’t risk another glance up for a long moment, her fingers rumpling the skirts of her dress from their vice grip, but when she finally did look at him she flashed him another warm smile. She really was a pretty thing, but rather than the desire he expected to feel burning under his skin, his mind had already wandered to another.

What were you doing at that moment? Were you working or finishing up your holiday shopping? Was another man trying to seduce you and failing because you were too busy thinking of him as well? 

“I believe the All-Mother is expecting you,” he said, sweeping an arm towards his mother’s chambers. “I would not keep her waiting if I were you, Lady Sigyn.”

They curtsied and quickly made their way into the sitting room. He caught glimpse of her staring discreetly from the corner of her eye before the door shut. He stood there for a moment longer before turning and slowly returning to his quarters.

 

——

 

He had promised to meet you at 7:00 pm.

It was 8:21 pm.

He lay on his bed fully dressed in colors to match your dress, a wrapped package laying beside him on the bed, and he held his phone in his hands. His expression was blank, impassive as another call came across the screen and he hardly felt the vibrations against his palms. Your contact photo was one of the many selfies that he had taken of the two of you laughing and kissing, the fairy lights twinkling behind you and making your skin glow. It rang a few times before an alert came across the screen: 3 Missed Call(s). Then another: 1 Voicemail. 

With numb fingers, he clicked on the voicemail icon and pressed it to his ear to listen.

“Hey...it’s me. I’m getting really worried. I hope you’re okay. Just...just call me back when you get this, okay?”

He closed his eyes and replayed the message again. Then once more. He could hear it in your voice, the anxiety and concern. You were speaking faster, almost sounding breathless, and there was the crackle of air passing over the speaker. You were probably pacing, he could almost see you walking from one end of the apartment to the other, nervous fingers fidgeting and worrying at your clothes.

Loki dropped the phone and pressed his hands to his face, once more contemplating who he was and who he was not.

He should be taller, stronger, and more physically capable. He was supposed to be loud, crass, and fearless to the point of stupidity. He was expected to be the true son of Odin and not the stain on the family tree that he felt to be.

Instead, he was very knowledgeable of spell-weaving and casting, taking an interest in the arts since his youth. He had become so proficient in magic that he could do things that astounded that brute of a brother of his and could hold his own in battle, but  _ tricks  _ and  _ illusions  _ would never earn him any respect. He was so intelligent, so cunning, that he had long ago bested all of his teachers and tutors, including his own mother. Surely there had to be some value to his differences.

So why did he always feel anything but?

It was only during moments with you that he felt that maybe his disparities were acceptable. Once you had surprised him by not falling for his false cheerfulness and noticing that he was in a foul mood, likely from something his father or brother had said. The warmth of your lips on the nape on his neck, his jaw, his earlobe, anywhere you could reach was a soothing balm and you whispered something along the lines of:

_ “I know what you need. Lay back. I’ll take care of you.” _

Or when his words came out more caustic than he intended, you called him out on it and patiently waited for him to backtrack.

_ “There’s no need to be an ass about it, Loki, just talk to me.” _

Sometimes playful arguments would turn into heated discussions and yet you never resented him for his opinions. Even if you maintained the notion that you were right and he was wrong.

_ “I want to know how that twisted brain of yours works.” _

Loki realized that you truly saw him. Just as he was. When he let his true face slip past the mask, left his flaws unburied for even the smallest of moments, you faced him straight on and found the good in him that most were blind to. Even if he was never truly honest, even if you didn’t know everything about him, he felt like the truest version of himself when he was beside you. Had there ever been another he felt he could be himself with, set aside the pretense and bare his soul to?

Never.

_ “Why would you want that little, ugly thing?” _

_ “Just because it’s not the norm doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own charms.” _

There was no denying it.

Things had gone too far. He had wanted to know you and he had succeeded too well. What started out as a harmless fling turned into a curiosity and grew into an obsession. He was already spending so much time on Midgard that even his mother had noticed and started asking questions. He’d never gotten so distracted or rejected the attentions of a pretty pursuit because his thoughts were so consumed by another.

While the thought of having some sort of future with you was a nice fantasy, it was just that. Make-believe. He could never bring you to Asgard and you were mortal, your lifespan lasting no more than the smallest fraction of his. You would be nothing more than a ghost haunting him for the rest of the thousands of empty years that stretched before him. 

It wasn’t fair to himself and it wasn’t fair to you to keep playing pretend. He could never truly be with you. It was harder for him to swallow that he desired it so much. That he would risk his father’s wrath, his mother’s disappointment, his brother and the rest’s scorn if only…

If only…

No. 

He sat up and picked up his phone, his lips pressed together in grim determination. He went to his recent calls and clicked on your last attempt to reach him. It started ringing and he schooled his features into something as close to indifferent as he could manage.

He needed to put a stop to it before it went any farther.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo about that party... :)
> 
> Have you guys read The Gospel of Loki by Joanne M. Harris? I just started it and so far it is amaaaazing. But definitely not very Marvel Loki.


	9. Too Good At Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Too Good At Goodbyes by Sam Smith  
> 2\. Break My Heart (Stripped) by Hey Violet   
> 3\. Elastic Heart by Sia  
> 4\. All I Want For Christmas is You by Chase Holfelder and Kurt Hugo Schneider
> 
> Bonus track because that is the angstiest Christmas song I have ever heard and I dig it.

It was 8:34 pm.

There were messages on your phone from your friends, demanding your immediate presence and flooding you with Snaps of what you were missing out on. You had planned on surprising them by bringing Loki to the party, but the excitement of that had faded as your meeting time came and went, with no word from the man after an hour and a half of waiting. You were just thinking about how to answer them when your phone started buzzing in your hand. The contact image was a photo you had taken of him days ago, smiling brighter than you had ever seen. He moaned and complained about you using that one instead of the ones of you kissing or posing with the Charlie Brown tree, but you could tell he was secretly pleased.

You quickly answered.

“Loki? Are you okay?” you blurted out immediately.

“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding somewhat tinny like he had bad reception wherever he was. 

“Thank goodness,” you slumped in your seat and all of the tension melted out of you as you sighed. “What happened? I was worried you got into an accident or something.”

“No.”

Even though you had seen the contact photo just a moment before you couldn't help but glance at it again as if to confirm that you were indeed talking to the right person and you stood up, starting to pace as you had while you had been trying to get ahold of him earlier. Was it your imagination or was he being awfully short with you? Some of the anxiety started to trickle back into you. It wasn’t like him to be so...monosyllabic.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have changed my mind.”

“That’s fine,” you said, frowning at the ground. “If you didn’t want to go to the party, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t that big of a deal and you could have just told me—”

“No, not the party.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our time together has run its course.” 

You stopped pacing and stood stock still in the kitchen, as stiff and lifeless as a store mannequin. The concern blurred, washed out by a strong wave of jarring hurt and confusion. You rested your elbows on the counter, trying to wrap your head around what he said. When you couldn't, your mouth moved to answer, closed, and then opened once more but words weren’t working like they normally did.

He was as silent as a grave on the other end.

“Okay,” you finally managed, sucking in a deep breath. “Any particular reason why?”

“It was enjoyable while it lasted but all things have an expiration date,” he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you were very ignorant not to realize it on your own. “Honestly, our acquaintance should have ended the night we met.”

_Acquaintance_.

“Oh... _ oh _ .”

You were both silent for another long moment. You could hear him breathing on the other end. Slow, even breaths. So calm and collected. Totally unmoved.

“Are you serious?” you asked, more to yourself than him. “Are you freaking serious?”

He gave a small, shaky laugh and when he spoke he sounded just as unsteady. 

“Just this once, love.”

He cleared his throat, his voice coming across all sharp edges and pointed apathy once more.

“You will not see me again. Goodbye.”

The line went dead with a click and then there was empty air. Nothing. He was gone just like that.

You looked at his contact photo for a few more heartbeats. Your mind was processing slowly and when no sudden clarity came you gave up. Then you swiped over to your contacts and called Natasha. It wasn’t really a surprise when a slightly inebriated Clint answered instead.

“Heeey, there you are. Tasha’s in the bathroom. Are you coming or what? I’m only here because you told me I was getting ‘The Best Christmas Present Ever’ if I showed and you’re not even here.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just had to finish something up. I’m leaving the apartment now.” 

“You good? You sound...off.”

“Yeah, just...”

You couldn’t help but glance over to the Christmas tree in your window, lighting up the dark room with colorful lights and reflecting on the glossy, painted bulbs. It had been the first year you’d had someone to help you put it up in forever and the first year there was a present sitting underneath it. Just one, wrapped in a metallic green paper and tied with golden ribbon. The rest were for White Elephant at the party or your friends, sitting in a few bags beside the door and you made sure to grab it on your way out.

It had only lasted a few weeks, but...

“Just one of those days. Save me some eggnog. See you soon.”  
  
It was the happiest you'd been in a long time.

You would just have to remember how to be fine all on your own again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap! The seasons started changing and my health started taking a sharp nosedive. Hopefully, I've reached the point where I can manage it and keep updating regularly. Thank you all so much for reading and all of your lovely comments! They make my days brighter! :)


	10. Game of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Game of Love by Andrei Krylov  
> 2\. Bad At Love by Halsey  
> 3\. Wherever I Go by OneRepublic

This Yule celebration was beginning to feel like the longest of his lifetime. 

The feasting hall was full to bursting, the din of elated voices melding with the lilting notes of the harps, flutes, pan pipes, and other instruments. All nine of the All-Mother’s spruce trees climbed toward the rafters, their branches wearing carefully carved figurines, many bearing a resemblance to Midgard’s ridiculous Santa Claus, streaming ribbons, and shimmering balls of light in a spectrum of colors, Frigga’s own magic at work. Holly and berry wreaths, the wheels of the sun, adorned many of the walls and the food-littered tables. The aroma alone of the many, carefully prepared dishes for the julbord would be satisfying enough to any who were lucky to be present, the taste enough to allow a man to die happily.

Yet with five days down and seven more left to go, everything tasted like ash in Loki’s mouth.

“Come now, brother. It’s a celebration, not a funeral,” Thor boomed exuberantly, clearly already deep into his cups, and waved a drinking horn in front of his face, the mead sloshing down over the rim. “Have a drink and wipe that sour look off your face.”

“I think you have had enough to drink for the both of us, brother,” Loki sniped, rolling his own barely touched cup between his fingertips. 

Thor’s rosy face puckered, seeming quite offended by his younger brother’s snarky tone. Instead of walking away to continue stuffing his face with goat and boar and dancing like a buffoon, as Loki expected, Thor sat beside him. 

“Where has your head been these few weeks past?”

“Even if there was anything to tell, it would be no concern of yours.”

“Surely you can speak to me, brother,” Thor pressed. “If no one else.”

“You will not even remember this conversation tomorrow.”

“All the more reason to tell me!”

“I think not.”

Thor harrumphed and took a long, long swig from the horn in his hand. Then he looked at his brother with an unusually sharp eye.

“Is it a woman?” he asked and then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “A man?”

Loki snorted into his cup, rolling his eyes. Somehow that seemed to be enough of a response for his drunken brother and Thor gave him a sloppy grin. He wasn’t unnerved in the least bit by Thor's lucky guess. He could have had an upset stomach and Thor would assume that a lover was involved. He wondered what Thor truly thought of the men he sometimes preferred, but the older brother had never remarked on it since discovering it by chance long ago and the younger wasn’t in the mood to ask. 

“I must admit that I do not know much of the latter, but allow me to share what I have learned throughout the years.”

“Through much trial and error, I assume.”

“Now, do not be like that and accept your older brother’s guidance.”

“I do not remember asking for your sage wisdom.”

“And yet you shall have it,” Thor ignored his sarcasm, threw an arm around his shoulder, and leaned heavily against him, feeling hot even through their clothes. He also smelled strongly of dirt and sweat, probably from the hunt earlier in the day, and Loki wrinkled his nose, trying to edge away, but Thor tightened his hold on him before he could get too far. “There is no point to sitting here, sulking and thinking of them. Pining away will get you nowhere. Love demands action!”

“Is that so?” Loki asked noncommittally, giving in and downing the rest of his cup. The mead was sweeter on the second try, the taste of honey and apple cider coating his tongue, yet he still could not enjoy it as he normally would.

“Of course! Passion is met with passion!”

Loki waved a servant over and when the man tried to fill his cup for him, Thor plucked the jug from his hands and did it himself. Then he dumped the rest into his own drinking horn before cheerfully returning it. They would obviously need more if they were to continue this line of conversation.

“You had better bring another, thank you.”

The servant only laughed before he bowed and went to fetch more.

“Now what was I saying...?” 

While Loki finally started to drink like he was actually celebrating, his eyes flickered over the other guests carefully to search for unwanted eyes and ears. With the slightest twist of his wrist, he blanketed them with a ward that would distort and muffle their words. The last thing he needed was for this conversation to be overheard and for silly rumors to spread. 

“Oh, yes! Wom…er, people want to feel wanted. You must make it known immediately. You can pull them into your arms and—” 

“What if the issue is not a lack of action,” Loki interrupted before Thor could continue on his enthusiastic tangent. “But rather a lack of conviction?”

Thor paused for a moment, seeming so entirely stunned by the question. Then his entire face brightened, smiling so largely that the corners of his eyes crinkled. Loki regretted it instantly.

“Never mind, forget it entirely—”

“No, no, no,” Thor said cheerfully, leaning a little heavier into him. “Do you mean that you have tried to approach them, but they were not interested?”

Loki quirked a brow at that and took another drink, considering his response carefully. His brother wasn’t trying to insinuate that he was incapable of getting your attention, was he? From the first encounter onwards, he never hesitated to make his intentions toward you known and you had never hesitated to reciprocate. 

After he removed your memory of the few initial moments, anyways.

“Not at all,” Loki denied smugly, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to elucidate the misinterpretation of his competency and his conquests. “We are already...shall I say, very well acquainted with one another.”

Thor’s face scrunched up again, looking confused.

“Then what is the problem?

What a question. There were too many to list. His lineage, your mortality, and the shared dishonesty, just to name a few. Yet none of them were your doing. Nor his, truly. Things just were a certain way before he met you and they would continue to be that long after.

“I ended our acquaintance yesterday,” Loki explained. “It was no fault of hers or mine. We just cannot continue forward. There is no future in it and it was unfair to her to convince her otherwise.”

“That is a problem, brother,” Thor said, leaning back to peer blearily his face and although he didn’t explicitly say so, his words were dripping with astonishment at hearing something so out of character for him. “You must really care for this woman.”

He normally was so good at making his expression appear how he wished it to, his last line of defense against years of disdain and ostracization. He could laugh, deny it, and Thor would likely believe him if he did it right. But for some reason hearing his brother say it so plainly like it was the easiest thing in the world to admit, broke something loose in his chest and he breathed out a soft, ragged sigh. The servant was back, quickly refilling their cups— Loki hadn’t even noticed that he had finished his already— and he waited until they were alone again to continue.

“She is unlike no other,” he relented, holding back the praises he constantly sang of you in his head. If he said them aloud, then that would make the weight of it all that much more unbearable. “You would like her quite a lot. So would Mother, I think. But Father would never allow it. She would bring nothing to the union and he would have nothing to gain.” 

“So? When has that ever mattered to you?” Thor asked him, laughing. “As I recall, you have made a name for yourself undermining Father. It almost seems fitting that you wed someone without status or wealth.”

Loki gave his brother a wry smile. He knew, knew without a sliver of doubt, that Thor didn’t mean anything malicious by the statement. He was merely referencing the millennia of harmless ploys and plots, usually at his or their father’s expense. Yet Thor’s comment resonated in the small, ugly part of himself that bruised so easily.

As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he claimed to have long ago forsaken Odin’s infinite, oppressive expectations for him, that part of him still wanted his father’s approval. It was never going to happen, the bar set impossibly high by Thor’s own golden goodness, his unmatched strength and courage, his easy manners, full figure, and handsome features. His  _ worthiness _ . Everything that manifested in their early years that was the exact opposite of Loki in every possible way, that he yearned to be but could never hope to achieve, so of course it made perfect sense for Loki to marry well beneath him.

“Are you suggesting that is all I am worth?” his words were muffled by his cup, sipping at it. It wasn’t mead this time, but a sweet, berry wine and he preferred the smoother taste. “Why, brother, I am wounded.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he was furious. With himself for thinking of you that way, at Thor for starting this conversation, and especially at his father for still having enough influence over him to feel as though he should be ashamed of you. If anything, you were just another in the long line of those he knew to be above him in every single way that mattered.

“No, I merely mean that you always resented the idea of chaining yourself to one person forever just to appease our parents. It pleases me greatly that you would look beyond what you can acquire from this woman and still want her anyways,” Thor said. “It took Father and Mother a long while before they could learn to like one another enough to rule together, let alone find love in one another. It is not something I want for myself and certainly not something I want for you.”

Loki could not disagree with that statement. He had always found the politics of marriage abhorrent. His mother often spoke to him of the trials of her early years on Asgard, having left Vanaheim to marry Odin to solidify the alliance between the Aesir and Vanir. While Odin saw Frigga as an equal now and regarded her with love and affection, it had not always been so. He could not imagine who his father would think was a suitable match for him, but he was fairly certain that they would make him as miserable as any other decision Odin had ever made for him.

“What about you and Sif?” Loki asked, nodding to where the woman was sitting with the Warriors Three and other soldiers, talking with them. “Will you marry, as Father wants?”

Her hair, the color of the darkest, starless night, was just as striking as her blond locks had once been before he had sheared them off in an act of petty jealousy long ago and they would not grow back.With the threat of his brother’s wrath at his back, Loki tried to find a suitable replacement but the dwarvish craftsmen he approached to make the hair had heard of what he had done and tried to charge him an unfeasible amount of gold, which he refused. In the end, he had gotten the hair for her, but the disgruntled dwarves had made sure it was not the golden hair that had been so coveted. It had taken him some time to get used to her new appearance, but Sif had decided the new color suited her better and Loki could not deny that he found her as beautiful as he had when they were children. 

Thor’s gaze followed his, settling on the woman. She must have felt their eyes on her back because she glanced over her shoulder and gave Thor an easy smile. Then she narrowed her eyes at Loki, to which he could only smirk in return and her stare darkened before she turned back to the others at her table. Yes, Sif was nice enough to look at.

Sadly she lacked any sense of humor.

It hadn’t taken Loki long after the incident to realize that he had never desired the warrioress’ affections. He had only been furious that his brother would possess something that he did not. While the memory made him chuckle now, he knew that Thor would see her hair as a reminder of what he and Sif used to be to one another. It had been hundreds of years since they had decided to end their relationship, but Loki was not blind the lingering looks exchanged and how Thor began to grow gradually more distant from his long-time friend and companion after Odin had shared his intent for them to marry.

“I know not,” Thor admitted. “I have hardly had the time to wrap my mind around the idea.”

“Father told you years ago,” Loki threw out, amused.

“Hmm.”

Now Thor was the one who didn’t want to speak about his love life.

There was a brief sullen silence while the older brother held out his drinking horn to a passing servant to be topped up. Loki looked down at his own cup, surprised to find it empty again and let it be refilled. He sputtered when he took a drink, the sharp, bitter burn taking him by surprise, but he quickly choked it down while Thor laughed and thumped him hard on the back.

“I have always hated brennevin,” he managed through his coughs, frowning down at the drink for a moment before he threw the rest back in one go, not wanting to take the time to really taste it. The pleasant, fuzzy sensation of alcohol in his veins was beginning to sink in, warming him and loosening some of the tension he’d be holding in all evening. “I do not know how Volstagg can stand to drink it by itself.”

“Forgive me, your highness,” the servant mumbled. “I will bring you some wine.”

“No harm was done,” Thor said. “He needed something stronger.”

Before Loki could disagree, Thor dismissed the servant and gripped his shoulders firmly, bowing his head forward to hold his gaze.

“If she is truly as worthy of your regard as you make it seem and feels the same for you, then you would be a fool to let her slip away over something so trivial,” he said, sobering up enough to sound utterly sincere. “This palace and all of the treasures within are more than enough. As my sister and wife to my only brother, my closest friend and ally, I will never find her lacking. You have my word.”

_ Lies _ , that hateful little voice hissed in the back of his head.  _ Sif is from a respected family, offering their loyalty and her own prowess. He knows you will never be able to acquire someone equivalent in Father’s eyes. _

He quieted the voice. He believed his brother’s genuine nature, for why wouldn’t he? Thor didn’t have to try to be better, he had proved himself to all of Asgard the moment the hammer chose him and had no reason to lie.

Loki hesitated and then lowered his eyes, focusing on the cup between his fingers.

“I will keep that in mind.”

Thor let out a carefree laugh, all seriousness forgotten, and then dragged him out of his seat toward the table where his companions were. Loki was unsure as he sat, they were no friends of his. At least not anymore. Still, they greeted him easily enough. Their flushed faces and the servants hovering nearby to keep the cups full were likely the cause.

He lost track of time, feeling quite bleary himself as he joined in with their celebration. Telling tall tales, laughing, and making toasts to Odin, to the longer days, and the games tomorrow. He never took part himself, a well-known fact, yet no one pointed this out as they started making bets and he felt himself relax, enjoying their company for the first time in a long while.

He could almost forget you for a while.

“I am unfamiliar with that face,” Frandrall suddenly spoke up, breaking up the conversation as he peered across the hall. “Who is she?”

“There is no reason for you to be familiar with every woman in the room,” Sif said coolly, but she was craning her neck to see who he meant.

Loki turned to look at where they were staring. A few of Frigga’s handmaidens were walking up the aisle between their table and the next, arm in arm and chattering cheerily amongst themselves. Among them was the newest, Lady Sigyn. As they neared, the ladies paused to curtsey to himself and Thor.

“Lady Sigyn,” he called out before they could continue on their way. “How are you finding your first Yule at the palace?”

She immediately startled at the address, her crystalline eyes roving over the rest of the people he sat with before settling on him. The other ladies looked even more starstruck, ogling at Sigyn as if she had grown another head before they all gave the proper greetings. Thor first, then Loki and the warriors respectively.

“It has been wonderful and everything looks so beautiful,” she finally answered him. “ My parents would never bring me when they came, so it is all very new to me. Are you enjoying yourself, your highness?”

“I must admit that it is nothing new by now, but yes, I am,” Loki said, trying to ignore Thor’s face slowly creeping into his peripheral over his shoulder and he focused his eyes on hers, letting his tone lower into something more casual, teasing even, “I find that good company makes all the difference.”

To his amusement, this did not go unnoticed as the other ladies began to giggle behind their fluttering hands. She gave him that small, tilted smile from the other day, an interesting contrast to the rosy flush filling her cheeks. Unfortunately, in his slightly inebriated state, he had forgotten that the others with him could also hear him. Thor was almost leaning all the way off of the bench by this point, making every effort to catch his eye, but Loki refused to see the stupid grin that was surely on his brother’s face. It was easy to guess what assumptions were just made.

But Thor was not one for being ignored.

“Fandral, Loki,” he said loudly, clambering out of his seat and pulling Loki up with him. “Why do we not see if the ladies would care to join us for a dance?”

As Fandral stood without hesitation and the expressions on the ladies’ faces turned hopeful, it was all settled without a word from him. It was no surprise to him when he ended up beside Sigyn. Thor clapped a hand on his back hard enough to send him stumbling forward on his slightly unsteady feet and the others kept shooting them the most indiscreet looks. She rose one, slender eyebrow and her smile widened, clearly amused by Thor’s antics. 

At least someone was.

The music started and he easily fell in with the other couples, leading her through a circle of turns. He had practiced these steps so much in his youth that he could probably do them with his eyes closed, all part of the required knowledge a young prince must know. Sigyn didn’t disappoint, following him and her tiny fingers were warm in his own as she twirled. The next was slower, weaving the line of couples and exchanging partners for certain parts, but he kept finding her eyes even as she was in the arms of another and when the dance returned her to him her smile was radiant. The next after that was quick and he couldn’t help but laugh with her as another couple crashed into them, clearly not as well practiced as they were.

“Forgive me, your highness,” Sigyn was breathless as the last came to a close, fanning herself with her hands. “I believe I need to cool down for a moment.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

Despite knowing them well, he was not used to dancing so much at the feasts and especially not after drinking so much. He escorted her through the crowd and she followed on his arm, faces familiar and unfamiliar bowing to him as they passed. Finally, he made it to the balcony, the crisp winter chill cooling his skin immediately while large pitted braziers in the floor kept away much of the cold to allow standing outside bearable without furs and the other meandering guests gave them a wide berth while shooting curious glances from afar. 

He cast the same ward as before, still not interested in having an audience. Sigyn exhaled deeply, leaning against balusters and he leaned with her, enjoying a companionable silence until a servant brought them drinks.

“My father never allowed me to drink,” she told him, looking down at the cup in her hands. “My brothers had always been able to, as soon as they were old enough to hunt, and my older sister was able after she got married. But I never have.”

“Well, I do not see Lord Hlekkr,” he said, feigning to scan the crowd. “do you?”

She laughed; such a vibrant and easy sound.

“No, he and my mother were unable to attend this year,” she said. “It is a little lonely to spend this time of year apart from them, but I am still finding myself enjoying the festivities. “

“Even with having to go along with the whims of two princes?” he asked, arching a brow.

“I would never speak an ill word of the princes, your highness,” she said, tone believably sincere and yet he could see the slight curve at the corner of her pink lips.

“Of course not,” he said, making his face and tone match hers perfectly.

“I believe you were right about good company making all the difference, your highness.”

Then she shot him that crooked little smile and took a sip from her cup.

Loki did not miss the intent of the statement, the deliberate affection in her voice nor the warm, inviting looks she kept giving him. He could take her up on that invitation. She had a playful disposition and wit about her that he admired, but apart from that, her bloodline was a long and noble one. If he was to have a wife that his parents would approve of, then she would do nicely.

He leaned ever so slightly closer to her.

“I sense a kindred spirit in you, Lady Sigyn,” he said in that same, playful tone he had used on her before. “Tell me, what is it that you really want from this?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and round. A perfect imitation of naivety. 

“What do you mean, your highness?”

“You know I am not to inherit the throne, so you’ll never be queen,” he continued, unperturbed as he looked out over the frozen hills in the distance. “What else could it be? As a lady brought up in a fine house, you might not care much for your position as one of the All-Mother’s maids. Your parents were very strict and you may be searching for the autonomy marriage would grant you. You are the youngest child of your family, so you will not have much in the way of an inheritance. Marrying well seems motive enough.”

He finally turned his eyes back to her, smiling.

“No doubt my reputation precedes me and you have learned of my personality as best you could, so you assumed I would be an easy target,” he said, resting his elbow on the railing and leaning over it so he could catch her gaze directly. “A coy little smile here, a clever remark there, and singling me out from my brother, the obvious but harder to attain prize, yes?”

To her credit, Sigyn’s expression did not waver. The only indicator that he had hit the mark was how the color had slowly drained from her pretty face, making her seem all the more porcelain and her bright blue eyes even more pronounced. She lifted her chin, staring back at him with a determinedly arched brow and that little smirk she wore so well.

“There are many reasons a woman would be attracted to a prince, your highness,” she said, voice just as heated as it had been before and she let her finger glide forward on the railing, the very tips just barely skimming against his own. “Surely you will not fault me for knowing what I like and making it known?”

Yes, she was very good and his ego lapped it up. He slipped his hand over hers, taking the small, dainty thing into his own with care. She allowed this, her eyes flickering to their joined fingers and trailing them as he brought them to his mouth to press a gentle a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

The color returned to her cheeks in full bloom.

“You are so lovely, Lady Sigyn,” he told her. “A wonderful addition to the All-Mother’s retinue and the palace. You and I could have so much fun together.”

And he meant it.

Yet no matter how much alcohol he consumed or how many pretty smiles Sigyn gave him, it changed nothing. There you were again, floating like an illusion behind his eyelids. Your smile, your laugh, your taste on his tongue, and the sensation of your soft skin under his fingertips. How you pushed back when he pressed, the bold words that rolled off of your tongue, and the sincerity in your every breath. There was only you in his mind.

May his brother never find out, but Thor had been right. 

“But I am afraid I just do not have the time for this little game at the moment.”

He was a fool for letting you slip away.

Sigyn slowly withdrew her hand, brows furrowing in confusion before she carefully smoothed her features back into the doll-like mask. It was something he’d felt his own face do a thousand times, covering up anything that could be seen as a vulnerability. As a truth. 

Only he did it better.

“Forgive me, your highness. If you will excuse me.”

Loki let her go, dismissing her with a wave of his hand and summoning a servant with another. He emptied his cup before they could get to him, not even taking the time to taste the wine, repeated the act after it was refilled, and had them pour him another glass before sending them away. That was sure to get tongues wagging.

Now.

How was he going to get you back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is a very unreliable narrator and such a drama queen. I love him. I had a really hard time with this chapter, so that's a huge part of why it took so long to get out and even now I'm not 100% satisfied with it, but if I pick at it anymore it'll never get posted.
> 
> I think I've kind of given up on a consistent update schedule. Life has been way too crazy lately and I've decided to rewrite a lot of the original story. Like major changes, so that's been taking some time. Thanks to those of you that still read this regardless!


	11. Irresistible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack:](https://open.spotify.com/user/1214408237/playlist/5w5o0ohKMOZgBQX8gl9Dsp)  
>  1\. Irresistible by Fall Out Boy  
> 2\. Tempt My Trouble by Bishop Briggs  
> 3\. Love Is Madness by Thirty Seconds To Mars (feat. Halsey)  
> 4\. Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN and Sia  
> 5\. Chains by The Sweeplings

The holidays were always ridiculously busy. More parties, more friends and family to visit, more gifts to give and open. You spent the majority of the day running from one house to the next, both loving that it had turned out to be a white Christmas but also cursing that you didn’t have a car and that your toes were frozen from trudging through snow. It was well past ten in the evening when you finally stumbled into your apartment, exhausted and with arms full presents.

You dropped all of them onto the couch, deciding to go through them and put them away properly in the morning. For now, you were going to find your coziest pajamas, make something warm to drink, and maybe have that cry you had been choking back since yesterday. There just hadn’t been time between everything else. You didn’t even come home last night. 

Natasha made a playful wager about being able to drink more than you and you were in the mood to be stupid. After she easily drank you under the table, she decided that you and Clint were too drunk so you both crashed at her place. Now that you were alone, truly all by yourself for the first time in twenty-four hours, everything was settling a little heavy on your shoulders.

It was while you were changing into your sweats that you noticed it.

There were two presents sitting under your tree.

The green one with golden ribbon, the one you had gotten for Loki, and a smaller, slimmer box in silver wrapping and tied with a dark blue, lace ribbon. Instantly all of the hairs on your arms were standing on end and you yanked your sweats up with jerky hands.

That  _ definitely _ wasn’t there before you left.

You reached under the coffee table, fingers dragging across the porous, grainy bottom until they found cool metal and you tugged it free of the velcro holding it in place. You didn’t look particularly threatening in a ratty t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, but you would let the S&W Bodyguard .380 do the talking. You quickly started clearing rooms, carefully checking each nook and cranny. The bathroom was the last place to check and the door was slightly ajar, almost shut but not quite. You kept your hands steady, kicked open the door, and flicked your finger toward the pressure switch on the front grip of the Bodyguard, the flashlight mounted on top coming to life in a burst of blinding light.

“By the Norns!”

A low, displeased groan followed the gibberish and a hand flew up to block the light.

“Loki?”

Sure enough it was him. He looked worse for wear, hair loose and wild around his face. His jacket was hanging off his shoulders, shirt half untucked, and he seemed to be missing his shoes. He must have fallen at some point, ripping down the curtain and part of it lay draped across him like a blanket.

“Is that a gun?” he asked blearily, squinting past his fingers.

Your arm went slack at your side, the weapon feeling like it had doubled in weight suddenly. Heart racing, blood roaring in your ears, and fast, empty-breaths. Your body was taking a second to process that you weren’t actually in danger. You needed a few more seconds to force more air into your lungs before you could even think about answering him.

“For protection. Like when people are in my apartment when they shouldn’t be.” you finally managed, flipping on the safety and turning off the flashlight before setting it on the counter. “What are you doing here? Why are you in the tub?”

“Excellent question—whoa!”

He had tried to get up but quickly slipped and fell back down hard in the tub with a loud thud. From the undignified grunt and how he didn’t immediately try to get back up, it probably didn’t feel great. It was then that you realized that his normally clear, sharp eyes were a little glassy and his cheeks were flushed.

“Are you drunk?”

“No— well, perhaps,” he muttered, struggling to sit back up. “Do I look drunk?”

“Yes,” you were honest. “Absolutely trashed. How did you get in here?”

“You left the door unlocked.”

You frowned at that. That was very unlike you. The city wasn’t exactly the type of place to leave your front door unlocked either, so you pretty much had that security measure down. But you couldn’t honestly remember whether you had or not, you’d been more than a little emotionally compromised. You let it go, blaming yourself.

“Come on. Get out of the tub.”

Loki tried once more to get up, making the mistake of using the hot water knob as a handhold and doused his pants. He yelped in surprise, scrambling to turn it off, but effectively turned on the cold water instead. You blinked several times, stunned, and then reached out to turn off the water before he could start the shower or something.

“Thank you,” he said, beaming a sloppy smile at you. “You really are a darling girl.”

You didn’t say anything as you leaned over to help him out, putting an arm around his middle and he leaned heavily on you as he clambered over the edge. For some reason he seemed so much heavier than usual and his weight nearly buckled your knees. You must have been more exhausted than you realized. Once he was out you were quick to let go, but he immediately stumbled again. With a sigh, you grabbed him and started to lead him out of the bathroom.

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes and I’ll hang yours up,” you told him. “Okay?”

Instead of answering, he rested his head on your shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“You smell as lovely as ever…” Another inhale. “But different. Like cinnamon and cream.”

His words and proximity were like a blade, slipping between your ribs and cleaving you open completely. You flushed and pushed him down onto the couch a little harder than you probably should have, the heavy piece of furniture sliding back an inch or two under his weight. You needed some breathing room and it was like he was purposely testing your patience. You grabbed the green-wrapped present from under the tree, trying not to look at the other one, and threw it onto his lap.

“What is this?” he asked, turning the box over in his hands.

Then, like a child, he shook it. When it gave no satisfying rattle he looked up at you.

“Your present,” you told him. “It couldn’t have worked out better, honestly.”

With clumsy fingers, he slid the ribbon off before tearing the paper off as well. A plain brown cardboard box was underneath and it seemed to take him a moment to realize that his gift was  _ inside  _ the box. After opening it, he pulled out a pair of snowman slippers, black socks with colorful lights stitched into them, soft gray sweatpants, and a green jumper that said, “Merry Go Fuck Yourself” in cheery letters with lots of little Christmas trees and snowflakes.

He immediately started laughing, the delighted sound pouring out between the fingers he pressed to his mouth.

“Oh, how I wish I had this earlier today. Thank you.”

You couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit smug. You knew he would like it. He didn’t hesitate to start changing right there in front of you, discarding his clothes haphazardly all over the floor. They landed heavily on the hardwood, the cloth sticking with a wet  _ schtlk _ .

“So what are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I wanted to give you your present,” he said, slipping on the pants first.

You looked over at the package and frowned.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“You weren’t meant to see me,” he said, pulling on the sweater next and he held it by the bottom, looking down at with a tiny smile that barely curved the edges of his lips. “But then I needed to use the restroom and next came the falling and then I didn’t feel much like getting back up.”

Despite yourself and the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. At the whole, ridiculous thing. You had never seen him like that before. He was usually very good at handling his alcohol and pretending to be suave. Then the sound started to twist, coming out more like a sob, and you stifled it.

It was a long moment before you could ask, “How much did you drink?”

“Far too much. I stopped counting after about eight,” he admitted, plopping back down onto the couch with ease. “I suppose I missed you more than I thought I would.”

You stared at him long enough to consider wringing his neck before snatching up his clothes and stalking off to hang them up on the shower rod, ignoring the ruined curtain for the time being. Then you went over to the sink and began to furiously wash your face and brush your teeth. When you came back out, Loki was slumped over and breathing softly on the couch. You wanted to be angrier, wanted to yell and rage and kick him out, but a mixture of exhaustion from the long day and his relaxed face, totally oblivious, drained the fight right out of you.

He probably just needed to sleep it off. 

There was no need to throw him out into the cold, you reasoned with yourself. It was late and he was clearly plastered. You wondered how he got there, you hadn’t seen his car out front, while you straightened him out on the cushions. It took some effort because he still felt disproportionately heavy for his slender build, you normally had no problem throwing him around the bed, and fetched a spare blanket to throw over him. 

As you were covering him up, his eyelids fluttered and his hand snaked out to wrap around your wrist.

“Are you not going lay down too?”

“Not with you,” you said.

He sighed like  _ you  _ were the one out of line.

“You’re angry.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you being so kind if you’re angry?”

“Just because you were an ass doesn’t mean I’m going to be one too,” you said tiredly.

“So blunt. I adore that about you.”

You bristled, yanking your arm away from him.

“Look, you’re drunk and it’s late. Just go to sleep,” you snapped, feeling your blood begin to boil all over again.

“I am not tired.”

“Bullshit. You were asleep just five seconds ago.”

He motioned towards the present underneath the tree with floppy fingers.

“Open it. It’s still….er, Christmas.”

“Loki—”

“Please,” he said softly, his expression entreating and so convincingly pitiable that you  _ almost  _ believed him. “I wanted you to have it today.”

You were reconsidering the yelling, raging, and kicking now. You raked your fingers through hair and huffed instead. He was trying to drive you insane. You rolled your eyes at him, making sure he knew that you weren’t buying it, before dropping to your knees beside the tree and picking up the present. It was heavier than its small size suggested.

Kind of like the idiot on your couch.

Part of you wanted to lob it at his face, but the fool in you was burning to know what it could be. Curiosity got the better of you, slipping off the ribbon neatly and tearing open the paper. It revealed a slim white box and as the lid came off, you couldn’t help but gasp softly.

It was a necklace with a thin golden chain and an emerald green crystal pendant. The gold weaved together in a delicate filigree wrap around the thinner end of the chandelier prism and tiny diamonds were set through the swirling pattern. It sparked even in the low light from the tree, leaving no doubt that the stones very real and expensive.

“Loki,” you choked. “I can’t take this. How much did you spend?”

“That doesn’t matter. It was made just for you,” he said, fumbling with the blanket for a moment before coming to sit beside you and he held out his hands for it. “May I?”

You dumbly handed it over to him, feeling like an observer in your own body as he unclasped it and moved to slip it around your neck. As the pendant came to rest at the base of your throat, the sensation of an energy, a snapping over your skin like static, washed over you. Then it passed and you thought that maybe all of the eggnog and your frayed nerves were getting to you. You touched the pendant with shaky fingers and turned to him.

“Why did you get this for me if you were just going to dump me?”

“I hadn’t intended to end things between us when I commissioned it,” he said, his eyes lowered to stare at the necklace and he reached out, gently placing his fingers on top of yours on the necklace. “I hadn’t even intended to end things between us until I called you.”

“But you did. You said we reached our ‘expiration date’ or whatever.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did we?” you asked, trying to blink away the tears that pricked at your eyes.

“We reached our expiration date the moment we met.”

“You already said that on the phone.”

“It’s true.”

You scowled, leaning away from him and his hand fell with soft  _ thwmp  _ to his lap. He seemed to have sobered up quite a bit. At least enough to hold an actual conversation. His face was cast in shadow, his back to the lights of the tree, and his dark eyes were intent on your face. You could not read his expression and he seemed almost like a total stranger at that moment.

“Why?” you asked. “Why are you really here, Loki? I don’t have time for whatever game you’re trying to play. Either you want to be with me or you don’t.”

“Let us be frank with one another for a moment.” His voice was as soft as velvet. “What do you actually know about me? What do I know about you?”

His questions resonated with you, cutting to the core of the problem.

You hardly knew a thing about him.

You hadn’t been looking past the immediate future for the past several weeks, focusing only on what you had in the now. You had never experienced anything like the way he made you feel, the connection between you a palpable, undeniable thing. Still, it was obvious you both were holding things back for your own reasons. Neither of you questioned the other more than necessary and walked the thin line between not enough and too much.

How can two people who refuse to be honest with one another ever be together?

“There are some things I can’t tell you,” you said helplessly, frustrated. “I just can’t.”

“And there things I cannot tell you,” he said.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

“So what then?” you asked.

“I...don’t know.”

He looked down at the space between you, the small stretch of carpet separating you. It was strange to see him out of his fancy clothes, wearing cheesy Christmas pajamas, and kneeling across from you. Even naked, he had never seemed so exposed, so raw.

Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

“Tell me something true.”

His eyes flicked up to yours at your request, assessing your expression carefully. His lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes narrowed. He looked so weary.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” 

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Of course.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but it was overshadowed by the sleepless circles under his eyes.

“Always rising to the challenge,” he said. “Shall we play a game then?”

“I told you I don’t want to play games.” 

“You’ll like this one.”

“What sort of game?” 

“We take turns asking one another questions and you may answer only yes or no. Truthfully, of course.”

“So long as you can only answer yes or no,  _ truthfully _ , too.”

He smirked fully now, eyes brightening with amusement, and he looked more himself than he had all night.

“Clever girl,” he commended. “Very well, I will follow the rules as well.”

You rolled your eyes. He was so good at inspiring violent tendencies in you. 

“How many questions?”

“As many as you like,” he said, nodding to you. “You may go first.”

“Okay, I’ll play,” you agreed, trying to suppress your eagerness. There was just so much that you wanted to know about him, but you decided to start small. “Did you actually like my green bean casserole?”

He frowned. “I ate it, did I not?”

“Yes or no. You said so.”

“...no.”

“I knew it!” you exclaimed. “You fibber!”

“My turn,” Loki quickly breezed past, looking only a little flustered. “Will you wear the necklace often?”

“Probably not.”

“Why ever not?” he sounded offended.

“I don’t want to lose it at work,” you told him and his responding pout was almost enough to make you laugh. “We’ll see, but that wasn’t a yes or no question. You’re terrible at following the rules of your own game.”

“I have been told this before,” he agreed, smiling without an ounce of guilt. “Next question?”

“Hmm,” you thought about it for a moment. “You’re really well off, right?”

He laughed gleefully. “Yes.”

You nodded, unsurprised. Even aside from the ridiculous necklace he had decided to gift you, it was fairly obvious from the way he dressed and acted. It went back and forth for a while, both of you choosing vague questions on purpose. You had to be careful, dancing the line you both drew between you.

Surprisingly, he had been honest about his real name. That was the one thing you were absolutely sure had some lying potential. He said he had never been to college, but he was educated in some fashion. He also was not close to his family, but he used to be. 

“What about your family in general?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything you’ve told me about them. Was it all fake?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve been as truthful as I can be when it comes to them.”

You considered his answer. That meant there were some things about them that you couldn’t know, but he clearly had made an effort to be honest. That was...interesting.

“Did you lie about your job?” he asked.

You hesitated and he quirked a brow. This was crossing the line and he knew it, but he wasn’t taking it back. He was leaving the decision entirely in your hands. It was up to you to plunge forward or retreat. Did you really want him that much?

You knew the answer to that as soon as you thought it.

“Yes,” you admitted quietly and he nodded, seeming unsurprised. “I can’t talk about it. What about your job? Did you lie about it too?”

“Yes,” he said. “I also cannot talk about it. About your bruises and scars...did you lie about how you received them?”

You looked down at several small ones across the knuckles on both of your hands. You couldn’t honestly remember how you got them, which particular face you split them on, or just how many more marks and hard calluses you had littered all over your body. Every time Loki had discovered another one, he had sweetly kissed it and told you how beautiful you were.

“ _ Goddess _ ,” he had said more than once, “ _ perfection made flesh _ .  _ You should be in silk gowns and jewels or nothing at all.” _

He had gotten his way with the jewels at least.

“Yes,” you said, swallowing heavily at the memory, and countered with, “Have you ever killed someone?”

Your mouth had shaped the words to sound playful, but your throat was cinched with terror. What a dangerous game. You were a fool for playing it, but you desperately wanted to know what he would think if he knew about you. What would he say if he knew about the things you’ve done? Would he still think you were perfect then?

“Yes.”

Your head jerked up to see his face, startled. His eyes were intense, hyper-focused on your face as he gauged your reaction, and he seemed to be holding his breath. Were  _ you  _ breathing? You honestly hadn’t expected that, but you knew his next question as sure as the sun rose in the east.

“Have you?”

You gulped for air and looked away, unable to meet his eyes as you answered.

“Yes,” you said and he let out a long exhale. Was he relieved? “More than one?”

“Yes. You?”

“...yes.”

What in the hell?

The air was tense for a moment. His gaze, like a magnet, drew your own back to his and both of you stared at one another in silence. He looked like he was trying to puzzle you out, just as you were trying to connect the dots. You were burning to know more, for him to explain himself. Despite that, you couldn’t tell him any more than you already had and he did not seem inclined to share too much more either.

It was so infuriating.

“Your next question?” he asked, his tone convincingly composed as if you hadn’t just been discussing murder.

“Have you ever been in love?” you asked, glad to shelf the last subject for the time being. You could think about it more when you were alone. “Real love. Not like a crush or whatever.”

“No, never,” he said, eyes tightening and creasing at the corners. “Have you?”

“No.”

You hadn’t. There had the usual high-school infatuations and college flings. Nothing serious enough to leave an impression and you had always put your career first.

“More and more we have in common,” he said, sounding solemn.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to you and you don’t know why you hadn’t thought of it before. The secrets, no social media, and the traveling in and out of the city. 

“Are you…” you faltered at first, failing to gather your courage. “Are you married?”

His features froze and then quickly crumpled into laughter.

“No, of course not,” Loki said, his tone teasing. “You think I would be here now if I belonged to another?”

Your expression must have been very telling because he grinned.

“Well, perhaps...” he said and his eyes wandered down your figure. Even in ratty sleep clothes, something he saw in you made him look like he wanted to ravish you right then and there. “You are quite the temptation, love. I do not think my fictitious wife could hold a candle to you.” 

“Somehow that’s not very comforting,” you murmured. 

“Thankfully, that is not the case and I am all yours,” Loki’s tone was suddenly sweet, reassuring, and he shuffled closer on his knees until they settled on either side of your legs, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “And I hope in return...that you are all mine?”

Your heart stopped at his hopeful words and his eyes were wide, vulnerable. You had never talked about anything like this. Fidelity. Commitments. Feelings.

_ Mine. _

“What about our expiration date?” you asked, your lips brushing against his from his proximity. “I thought you regretted meeting me.”

“I did not say I regretted it,” he said, his voice twisting in pain that mirrored how his words had hurt you. “Only that we have taken this further than it was ever intended to go.”

“That just sounds like you’re not ready for a relationship.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his eyelashes catching on yours as he blinked and you realized with surprise that his eyes were wet. “You want honesty and I’ll give it. I do not know how to love another, I do not know if I am even capable, and yet how strongly I care for you is fearsome. I have never wanted another more than I want you. Realizing that brought out the coward in me and I intended to run before things could escalate further, before these feelings could burn me up alive, but I believe it’s too late...I believe that I never want to be apart from you.”

His hands were gentle, clutching your face between them like you were made of glass. 

“Will you be mine?”

You knew that you shouldn’t. You hardly knew him at all. The unreliability, the lying, the possessiveness should have been more than enough for you to send him packing. Yet you didn’t hesitate to wind your arms around his neck and make the minute space between your mouths disappear.

“I’m already yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it been four months? Um. Here ya go. Thanks for being patient with me and still reading.
> 
> A little heads up for the chapters to come: I added "unhealthy relationships" to the tags for good reason.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting the songs I mainly listened to while writing/editing in the author's notes at the beginning just because I love music and you guys probably do too. But by all means don't feel like you have to listen to it. It's just there if you want it.
> 
> Part of this was originally posted on lunaescence.com, which has since gone down, and I decided to post it on here when I realized that I had written waaaay more chapters than I ever posted. Since I never stopped loving Loki, I decided to play with it a little bit and started working on it again. So be warned, it is a tad cliche and cheesy (which I secretly love but ya know).
> 
> Criticism and critique are always welcome, but be gentle as I'm just starting to stretch my fingers again. I've had a lot of things happen recently that has made writing next to impossible for me, so this is like practice or retraining. Thank you for understanding and I hope you guys like it.


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